Falling Home
by gumtuu
Summary: part 8 of 5. STORY COMPLETED! Finally. Page 8 posted. Fingers crossed for Cupid on DVD. :
1. Falling Home pg 1

  
  


**Falling Home**  
A story about the tv show, Cupid  
Part Eight of Five  
by Steve 0yervidez  
steveoyervidez@hotmail.com  
  


Trevor was nervous...  
  
He was seated in a sterile white conference room, fidgeting uncomfortably, morning light glowing bright behind him. Representatives of the hospital that oversaw his treatment were silently filing in before him. Without explanation, they stood in position opposite the table Trevor was seated at, each of their expressions sullen, not saying a word. Immediately the air filled with tension. Warm morning rays of light were still falling through the window and onto Trevor's shoulders, but suddenly he couldn't feel that warmth anymore as it drained away around him. All those hospital reps in the small room reminded him of the confines within the hospital he so feared. Trevor looked up at their faces and swallowed, worried thoughts rolling through his mind. Something was happening. Something serious. He could feel it so clearly in them, sense it as they stood there, see it in their watchful, concerned eyes, not willing to look at him.  
Exhaling, Trevor looked over at Claire, worry growing in his eyes. She was there with him too, seated at the table, in a chair by his side. Claire wore a very professional looking outfit, vividly contrasting Trevor's usual scruffy looking t-shirt and pants. She held his gaze with her own, and attempted to give Trevor a small, comforting smile, but she obviously felt just as nervous as he did. Neither of them knew why they had both been summoned so suddenly to this morning meeting. Considering what they had finally shared together last night, the timing was troublesome. Claire calmly reached over and squeezed his arm, the simple outward act of a doctor comforting her patient. But hidden beneath that touch, beneath her fingers, there was more. There was a squeeze, a gentle expression of what they had done and shared last night. An expression of the love they shared for each other, a love still secret, and still kept to themselves.  
They both looked towards the doorway at the sound of heavier footsteps.  
A hard looking man entered, dressed in full uniform. He was a police officer, a gun resting within easy reach in a black holster on his hip. The room went quiet in his wake, and even the hospital reps seemed suddenly apprehensive, some looking down at the gun. No one spoke. The police officer moved to the back of the room and remained standing as well, staying out of the way. Finally, Dr. Greely came into the conference room. He was carrying a folder in his hands, and he paused. The doctor's kindly old face flashed Trevor a friendly smile for a moment, but there was a concern there as well. With a sigh he took a chair at the table. Then behind him, one last pair of footsteps, and the sour face of Dr. Frechette appeared as he entered the room. His brow was hard and angry, stone carved from stone, looking like he wanted to take his frustrations out on anything handy.  
Pausing, Frechette glared at Trevor, revulsion obvious in his eyes. But despite that arrogance, he kept his silence, taking a seat beside Dr. Greely, both of them directly across the table from Trevor and Claire. Frechette leaned back, saying nothing. Dr. Greely slowly leaned forward to speak.  
"Trevor... I'm glad that we were able to get you safely here this morning."  
Trevor didn't move, waiting for a moment, suddenly feeling very exposed as he sat there with all those silent eyes watching him. His gaze shifted from face to face, growing more uncertain by the moment. "Ummm... what's going on here?" he asked.  
Greely lowered his eyes. "Something happened last night, Trevor. Something very serious. Something that we need to discuss. Your situation has changed rather drastically, Mr. Hale."  
A sudden coldness flowed through Trevor, and he looked over at Claire beside him. She felt it too. For a moment they shared one tiny nervous glance, wondering how much the others knew about the two of them, about their relationship, about their first night together. But how could...?  
Doing his best not to panic, Trevor looked back to Dr. Greely, his expression neutral. "Changed? Wha--... what do you think has changed?"  
"That's why we're here this morning, Trevor. We're here to discuss Faith."  
Trevor blinked in surprise. Now he really was confused. "Faith?"  
"Yes" Dr. Greely put the folder down on the table between them and opened it up, looking through it as he flipped a few pages. "Mary Simmons. The woman who shot you. Who... who became obsessed with you. With believing that you really are Cupid--"  
Trevor interrupted, his words coming fast, worried. "Yeah... Cute. Blond. Homicidal. I remember who she is. Still have the scars and aches to prove it. What about her? What about Faith?"  
Looking straight into Trevor's eyes, Greely's voice was level. "She escaped."  
Claire blinked in alarm, leaning forward. "She what?"  
Greely's lips pursed silently at the shock in Claire's voice. Beside him, Frechette shifted in his chair, as if embarrassed that one of his patients had broken out, not looking them in the eye. After a moment, Dr. Greely spoke again, his voice more forceful. "Mary Simmons, the patient this hospital knew as Faith. The disturbed woman who tried to kill you because you're Cupid. Who has never stopped obsessing about you... She escaped the high security ward last night."  
His tone growing even more serious, Greely leaned closer, looking worriedly into his eyes. "You're in danger, Trevor."  
Trevor was totally stunned, taking that in, his face going blank as if slammed into a wall out of the blue. Motionless, his entire body tensed like a suddenly cornered animal, stomach twisting inside him with the simple fact that Faith was somwhere out there, free. Claire looked just as shocked, full of disbelief as she leaned forward beside Trevor searching for some explanation.   
"Faith escaped? She was still in the maximum security ward, wasn't she? H-How could something like this--... Does anyone know how this happened?"  
At her side, Trevor remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.  
Frechette seemed to scowl, obviously not happy that he had no clear or satisfactory answers. "Umm... we don't know exactly..."  
"You don't know?!" Claire was incredulous.   
Looking at her harshly, Frechette kept his voice level. "Last night there was some sort of unforeseeable weather event. A freak occurrence that--"  
Trevor suddenly came out of the shock and astonishment that was holding him silent, interrupting Frechette, his curiosity peaking at those words. "Weather?"  
"Unfortunately... yes." Frechette seemed even more uncomfortable if that was possible, as if all these highly unlikely events somehow reflected on him. "An unexplained wind storm struck last night. causing severe damage to one of the secured fire exits in the ward's common room. One with easy egress if opened, unfortunately. The force of last night's storm was powerful enough... to burst those doors open. There was an immediate lock down once the breach in the door seal was detected of course, but for some as yet unexplained reason... Mrs. Simmons was waiting in the room when it occurred. She escaped immediately."  
One of the orderlies wheeled over a television on a cart, a VCR already blinking on pause below it. The orderly pushed play, and the reason for the television suddenly lit up on the screen. It displayed some blurry, somewhat distant black and white surveillance footage from last night. The room seemed to hush, everyone anxiously watching the silent images. Vague on the screen was the image of Faith, seated far from the camera in a corner of the common area, doing something to one of her arms, her actions hidden from view. Then, she was standing, walking calmly forwards... to stand before a pair of firmly locked doors, waiting for several seconds. And without warning, the doors before her silently blew open, a strong wind whipping over Faith's hospital scrubs and turning through the confines of the room, a storm of papers circling eerily around her.  
Trevor's face fell, a coldness filling his chest. The conference room was silent. He was watching the blurry black and white screen with dread, feeling as if the floor was opening beneath him.  
"Security reviewed this on the surveillance tape last night. As it shows, she easily managed to escape during this bizarre event..." Greely said.   
Claire tried to control her own stunned reactions, watching the uncanny images. Beside her, Trevor looked away from the recording, whispering softly to himself. "Weather...."  
Dr. Greely remained concerned, addressing Claire. "As you can see, Dr. Allen, this is a rather strange, and I daresay unique situation. There are obviously several questions that need to be resolved."  
Frechette was ready to pounce, leaning aggressively forward as he injected himself back into the conversation, a fiery glint in his eyes.  
"Actually... I also have certain questions for you, Mr. Hale."  
Frechette's face seemed even harder now as he said that, interlocking his fingers and fixing Trevor in his silent, disdainful glare.  
Claire looked worriedly over at Trevor.   
"Questions?' Trevor replied.  
"Yes, Mr. Hale. Specifically, what sort of unsupervised interaction you've been having with my patient." Frechette said it like it was some sort of opening move, now simply waiting.  
Trevor gave him a wary look, not following Frechette's question. "I haven't... Why? Faith's been locked up the entire time. Least she was. Until the Keystone Cops over there started watching her." He waved a hand over at the orderlies.  
"So you claim to have had no contact with her?" Frechette was pushing his questions hard. "None at all?"  
"Look..." Annoyed, Trevor shook his head, his voice growing louder. "The last time I saw that nut job was from across the bullet side of the handgun she used to shoot me!"  
"Interesting. Because Mary Simmons still seems to know quite a lot about you, Mr. Hale. Throughout her treatment and incarceration she provided me with so much detail. Always about you... Your habits, your personal life. Your continuing daily, sometimes even hourly schedule. I find that very... interesting. Faith knew," Frechette paused for a moment, his eyes lingering briefly on Claire seated beside Trevor, before looking back, "...all sorts of things. And then of course, there was the tattoo."  
Trevor went completely still again, hoping he wasn't letting his surprise show. "T-tattoo?" His words faltered, voice now full of caution.  
"Yes..." Frechette paused warily, Trevor's reaction made him instantly suspicious. "Mrs. Simmons has been drawing a tattoo on her arm for weeks. With whatever she could find. Pencil, ink... She nearly carved it into her skin, she'd written it there so much. Always the same arm. Always the same design. We could never get her to stop."  
Trevor shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the skin of his sore arm sliding under the sleeve of his shirt. That thin fabric was the only thing concealing the tattoo he had gotten there last night from all the prying eyes around him. A heart tattoo, hidden on his arm with Claire's name on it.  
"In fact..." Frechette cued up the tape of the common room again. "When we reviewed the security footage, we noticed that before she escaped, Faith was doing something. Possibly carving the same tattoo into her arm. We found a bloody fork left behind. Of course, we can't be sure of that, but we have our suspicions..."  
Trevor watched, seeing Faith's arm move, hidden on the tape, feeling his heart fall through his body with dread. He tried to remain calm, again watching the blurry image, a cold pit opening up inside him, feeling as if the chair underneath him was the only thing holding him up when he finally noticed what she was doing. She seemed to know everything he did before he even did it. It was impossible. He hadn't even thought of getting any tattoo at all until yesterday. And she had been doing it for months, as if Trevor were on some unstoppable preordained course towards disaster. Finally he swallowed, looking back at Frechette.   
"So what does any of this have to do with me?"  
"The tattoo Faith was drawing was a heart. A heart your name in it. Specifically Cupid's name. "  
Trevor closed his eyes at the description. Claire quickly jumped back into the conversation, trying to change it's focus away from the tattoo and countering Frechette's statement. "This is nothing new. Faith has been obsessed with Trevor for some time. That's very well established."  
Not fazed, Frechette turned his eyes on her. "Perhaps, Dr. Allen. But it's more than that. Even while incarcerated, Faith seemed to know Trevor's movements. She described them to me. She constantly knew where he was as well as where he was going to be. Accounts I personally verified, once or twice... During all my sessions with Mr. Hale's mentally disturbed cult worshiper, she seemed to consistently know what Trevor was doing. Doesn't that seem strange to you, Dr. Allen? Always about him. Who he met, who he interacted with. Even who he.... loves. " Frechette looked pointedly at the two of them seated together.  
Trevor and Claire were both silent, not knowing how to respond.  
Satisfied, Frechette continued with a smug smile. "But my point is that Faith knew far more about Trevor than she should have been be capable of. So how did she receive this information? Tell me. The only conclusion I can see, is that by some means, Mr. Hale has remained in contact with my patient. Repeatedly. Perhaps even influencing her judgment and recent actions. Feeding her god delusion with his own."  
"Now hold on!" Claire snapped back loudly. "Now you're just looking for any excuse for why Faith escaped. Or for your own failure in helping her condition. Hospital security and your own treatment tactics should be the issues here, not Trevor!"  
Frechette angrily grit his jaw as if Claire had hit too close to home. Eyes flashing, he could barely contain his fury, trying to control himself, speaking in a soft fast voice. "If it weren't for you Mrs. Allen, and your--"  
Seeing the fight that was about to erupt between the two doctors, Dr. Greely interceded. "Doctors..." They both went silent, pulling angrily back. Dr. Greely turned to Claire. "Regardless of the larger issues... the purpose of meeting this morning is to inform you and your patient of what has happened, Dr. Allen. Not to place blame. Faith has escaped. And she is still obviously obsessive and very dangerous."  
Claire snapped back, unsatisfied. "So that's it? No one is really accountable, but sorry anyway. We screwed up. Now Faith's out there somewhere roaming the streets?"  
Greely tried to calm her. "We will have her again, Dr. Allen. Given enough time, she will be back in our custody."  
"And the danger to my patient in the meantime?"  
"That's really why we're here today." Greely sighed. "Trevor... we'd like to place a guard on you."  
Trevor shook his head. "Don't want one."  
Greely tried to convince him. "Trevor, it's in your own best interests to let--"  
"I don't care! I won't have some knuckle dragging goon with a protruding forehead following me around everywhere."   
Resolute, Trevor looked away from Greely, locking gazes with Claire. His thoughts were clear in his eyes. If he had some sort of armed guard constantly following him around, then he and Claire would never... Claire immediately knew that was the reason. She opened her mouth to object to him, but instead remained silent, knowing she could say nothing surrounded by all the hospital representatives. Claire closed her lips, fear in her eyes as she looked at Trevor, sunlight still angling brightly down between them.  
Greely didn't comprehend Trevor's refusal at all. "Trevor... I urgently advise you to reconsider your decision. Accept our help. Please... For your own protection."  
Raising his gaze slowly, Frechette looked across the table at Trevor with distain. "Or at least consider staying on the ward, where we can monitor--"  
Trevor's chair screeched back slightly, rankled at the mere suggestion, now immediately animated. "Oh no! No way. No way I'm staying in the ward again. If your still trying to get me back in this place, you'll need to find a better excuse than that."  
Frechette paused.   
"Don't tempt me..."   
The white walled room went quiet for several uncomfortable moments.  
Frechette's voice was certain when he spoke again. "But know this, Mr. Hale. I still believe that you were in some way communicating with Mary Simmons. And I believe you somehow ignited her desire to escape. All because she still clings to this absurd idea that _**you**_ really are Cupid. So believe me. If any harm ever comes to her because of _**your**_ delusion... then I'll nail you to the wall for it."  
  


-------------  
  


"Trevor wait!"  
Claire sped out of the front doors of Lakeview hospital with a concerned look, calling out as she stepped out into the sunlight, spotting him. Trevor was already pulling further away, moving quickly along the sidewalk in front of her. He was obviously upset, storming away from the hospital entrance. Claire sped up in pursuit, catching up to him. "Trevor... hold on!"  
When she reached him, Trevor stopped and faced her suddenly, his face heavy with guilt, spread his arms out to either side in frustration. "Wait? Wait for what, Claire. Wait for what! I know what I caused!"  
Claire tried to calm him, reaching slowly over and touching his arm. "Trevor... I know you're worried. But until Faith is caught, maybe you _**should**_ have a guard. No matter what happens we--"  
"It won't make any difference!" Anxious, he pulled away just as quickly as he had stopped. Claire looked down at Trevor's steps as he began pacing with pent up emotions, his strides fast and quick on the sidewalk. She could feel the worry churning inside him, putting him on edge.  
"It's all my fault..." Trevor said sadly.  
"How-..." Claire didn't understand. "Trevor, Faith escaping is not in any way your fault."  
He looked her straight in the eyes, stepping closer. "It is my fault, Claire! Because I caused this. Just like Frechette said. Faith escaped. Last night of all nights."  
"I know you haven't had any contact with her, Trevor." She was standing in the sunlight before him, trying to calm him as he continued to pace in the darkened shade of the hospital looming beside them. "You haven't. No matter what Frechette says."  
"Faith got free last night..."  
Claire threw her arms out to either side, still struggling to understand what he meant. "So?"  
"She escaped! last night, Claire!" Trevor was almost frantic.  
Claire shook her head. "I'm still not seeing what--"  
Trevor's voice was low and desperate when he interrupted her. "We made love last night..."  
Caught off guard, she blinked, silent for a moment.   
His eyes were full of sadness, guilty as he looked over at her. "So you see it is my fault. Because... because of what I did."  
Watching him, her eyes were tender, finally understanding. Claire's voice grew softer, understanding what he was feeling. "What we did, Trevor... What we both did. Together."  
Pushing out an anxious breath, Trevor started to pace again. "What I wasn't allowed to do. Against the rules, remember? No sex with mortals. Now's it's all gone to hell. The gods have decided to punish me. Because last night I gave up on being Cupid."  
"Was that what we did last night, Trevor? Just sex with some mortal? I thought we made love."  
His steps were still quick, back and forth as he shook his head, not looking at her. "The gods won't see it that way. Believe me Claire. I've had 1000's of years of 'getting to know you' time. God types tend to have a more fire and brimstone sort of temperament."  
"Trevor, do you love me?"  
He was still pacing, not listening. "Course I do, Claire. That's not the point--"  
"Trevor, do you love me!"  
The insistence in her words made him pause. facing her, he came closer, reassuring her. "I do. Yes. You know I do, Claire. "  
"Ok." She stepped closer to him too, gently taking his hands. "Then what the two of us shared last night can't be wrong. We love each other. True love. It was right. We deserve to be together."  
Trevor pulled his hands gently away from hers. He nodded cynically towards the looming shape of the hospital in the shade behind him. "Yeah. Deserve it so much that we had to hide it in there."  
Claire blinked, looking down. "That's different."  
"Is it? There are all kinds of judgments, Claire. Gods and hospitals alike. They just condemn you in the end."  
"So now you doubt that you're still Cupid?"  
"Doesn't matter what I think, Claire. Or even what that hospital behind me thinks." Angry, Trevor jabbed a finger to the sky. "It's about what they think! You may not realize it, but to most of the gods up there, everyone down here might as well be insects they're trying not to step on. Sometimes trying anyway."  
"Trevor, you don't answer to them. The only opinion that really matters is yours."  
"Right. Remind me of that at my next hospital evaluation, Claire."  
"You make yourself, Trevor!" Claire exhaled, her voice certain, trying to get him to see. "You get to decide who you really are. All these years, banging my stubborn beliefs against yours, trying to cure you, then falling in love with you... I learned something. About you. About us. I finally see, Trevor. We decide who we are together. I realized you don't need to be cured! Not by the hospital, not by the gods. And not by me. Not of this... I love you, Trevor. Exactly how you are. You still are Cupid. As long as you decide to be. No one can take that away."  
Trevor still looked unconvinced. "Or maybe I took that away last night."  
She exhaled, lowering her head, then watching him carefully. "So what now, Trevor? Live on as a lonely, former deity bartender and be miserable all the rest of your life? Or do you let yourself be more?"  
"Claire maybe I don't have that choice anymore! Last night changed it all! Maybe I really am mortal now, able to hurt, able to die, and now Faith's loose to finish the job!"   
"Or maybe you're just feeling a little vulnerable. Feeling exposed, now that we've shared what we did last night. No longer invincible, letting someone past your defenses. You let me in, we opened ourselves to each other. Me just as much as you. Doesn't change who we really are. It's just something new for you, Trevor. And it's only natural."  
"Nothing natural about this, Claire! Come on, a weather incident? That has the gods written all over it!" Trevor shook his head. "I... I don't know.... Maybe I'm not him anymore. Not Cupid."  
She stepped closer. "Regardless, Faith tried to kill you once, Trevor. Are you going to let her now? Or the hospital? If you stop what you believe, essentially kill who you are, then you're doing that job for them."  
"But ignoring the fact that Faith escaped the night we made love--" he said harshly.  
"It's a coincidence, Trevor. There are coincidences in life."  
"Champ and Jaclyn broke up the night we made love..." His voice was soft.  
Claire paused for a long moment, looking suddenly doubtful. "Well... another coincidence..."  
"Claire you don't get it! You just don't get it. God, it's so obvious! We wake up in each other's arms this morning and, guess what. We find out Champ and Jaclyn broke up last night! Two people I care about. Two people I set up! Then the oh so happy call from the hospital to get up here right away so we can learn the oh so happy news that of all people... Faith escaped last night too! And she knew! She knew about us, about my tattoo. She knew what we were doing months before we even did it! Like someone imparted it to her. That's more than just a coincidence! It's a sign, Claire. Crashing down over my formerly immortal head."  
"There's no former. You still are the god of love."  
"Wish it were that easy. But it's not, Claire."  
"Yes it is!" Claire was adamant, moving closer to him. "How many times have you told two people that it doesn't matter what other people think? That what they have, what they feel is wonderful and beautiful and... and true love. Can't you listen to your own advice? What we feel, what we have together is beautiful."  
"They're human, Claire! I'm... I'm a god. I'm not like them." Trevor stepped back, waving at the people on the sidewalk in the distance, saying things he wished were different. "I didn't come into this as some hurting, mortal slob on the street. I came into this with more than that. I came into this as Cupid! The banished god of love, fallen far from home. And now... I don't even know if I'm that anymore! Inside me is this deep, amazing love I feel for you, Claire. This wonderful, amazing thing, like fire and rain and love and joy and nervousness and hope all at the same time. The only thing in this nonsensical world that makes any sense! But the gods won't see it that way. They don't care! In the eyes of the gods... all I have are responsibilities."  
Claire looked into in his eyes. "Trevor, I know you're scared. But you have responsibilities to yourself. To what _you_ want. Last night you told me you weren't going to let the gods tell you who to love."  
"Things are different now."  
"Are they?" She reached out to try to touch him, but he pulled away. Suprised, she blinked for a silent moment, concerned. "What, now you're afraid to touch me? To make love to me?"  
"Claire, now ... in the morning light... all I see are costs."  
"Not costs, Trevor. Coincidences."  
"Coincidence that all I ever seem to do is screw up your life? I love you, Claire. But I almost got you fired. I almost destroyed your career, your reputation. I still could, if they found out you loved a crazy man. I'm putting you in danger, Claire."  
"Trevor, I accept the risks I'm taking."  
"Maybe I don't..." He seemed reluctant to speak.  
"Trevor..." she paused quietly. "What are you saying?"  
"I don't know anymore.... Claire, what if.... what if the costs are too high?"  
"Trevor what are you say--...." She looked at him, pausing for a moment, finally hitting her. "Are you breaking up with me?"  
Trevor paused too.  
"Claire, after what happened with Champ and Jaclyn... Maybe I never really knew who was supposed to be with who... Maybe all my matches were fakes. Destined to fail, my magic gone. Even you and me..." He couldn't look at her. "Maybe we're not supposed to be together."  
She stepped back, not believing he had said that, not believing he had even suggested that. Claire was stricken by what he thought, speechless. She was silent for a long moment, the sunlight on her face, a cold breeze wafting into her black hair as she looked at him with sad eyes. She swallowed, trying not to let a tear fall, her eyes glittering in silence.  
"Trevor... in the end you have to make your own decision about us. No one can make it for you. Not even the gods. After all we've been through, you still don't want to disobey the gods? Fine. That's your choice. But I love you. I will take the risk. I will wave my arms at the thunder, be the tallest thing for miles. Dive in and not see the water. You taught me that..." She looked him sadly in the eye. "So guess it's up to you. It's time for you to decide what you want and what you don't, Trevor. I want you. I love you. If you want us to be together, I'll be waiting home. If you figure it out... you know where to find me..."  
Claire could think of nothing else to say, slowly turning from him, walking away without another word. Trevor watched her, not wanting her to leave like this, but not following her either. He started to reach out to stop her, feeling her pull away, feeling that distance growing deeper in his chest like a physical thing, wanting to take what he had said back. But then she was even farther, and growing farther still. He tried to say something more, opening his mouth to call out to her, but she didn't see him. And then she was gone.  
Indecisive, Trevor turned away, tears in his eyes, not knowing what to do. He paced alone in front of the hospital walls rising beside him, a solitary figure on the sidewalk, his expression full of doubt and worry. Out of nowhere he looked a up at the sky above him, frustrated eyes glittering, fed up, feeling cornered, trapped.  
"We did nothing wrong!" he yelled at that wide blue expanse above him.  
But the sky was silent and cold in response.  
Trevor lowered his head, and slowly walked away from the hospital, as a slow, sad song began to play...  
  
Guitars, a sad cello. And as the music continued, the unexpected glow of a faint red light snapped on out of darkness to illuminate the cramped corner of an abandoned room. After a moment, a woman's hand came into view to set down something gray on a table. It waa a pan, shallow and square, like the kind used to develop pictures in liquid solution. The woman's hand calmly placed a similiar pan next to the first, certain in her work. And just as calmly sher placed a stolen handgun beside the pan, followeed by a water speckled camera.   
The hands withdrew, leaving both there like any other pair of tools. Out of view, she continued to work, intent on her task as the music played.   
  
_**I'm standing on the bridge...**_  
  
Lost as he tried to make his decision, Trevor was walking across one of Chicago's downtown bridges, wondering what to do. Through the air a dim rumble of thunder trailed him across the river. At the sound of the thunder he looked up at the gray clouds, tinged in late day sunlight, behind and high above him.   
  
_**I'm waiting in the dark...**_  
  
Alone, Claire gazed out of her living room window as the light of the setting sun faded on her face. Her eyes glittered in the light, searching out the window, watching, waiting, hoping Trevor would choose her, choose to stay with her. Sadness filled Claire's face, feeling the window glass seperating her from the rest of the world. She was alone as she waited for Trevor. Above, there was a flash of light from the storm clouds rolling towards the setting sun, pale light washing silently over her for a brief second.  
  
_**I thought you would be here by now...**_  
  
On the center of the bridge, Trevor was pacing, as the sound of thunder rolled over the Chicago skyline towering all around him. The sky was gray, filled with a moving sheet of clouds, slowly moving in. Lost in his thoughts, Trevor looked up at the sound of even more thunder, just as a few drops of water started to fall out of the sky and rain down on him. Slowly the rain grew thicker, falling everywhere as far as the eye could see. People caught in the open hurried for cover, scattering in either direction past him. Face getting drummed with water, Trevor was still looking up, dejected, his shoulders slumping even further, getting soaked.  
"Figures..."  
  
_**There's nothing but the rain, no footsteps on the ground...**_  
  
Claire was still at her window. She closed her eyes as a tear fell down her pale cheek. At that moment, rain began to fall outside there too, drops pelting the glass, bright and golden in the last glow of the thin edge of the setting sun, distorting her image through the window.  
  
_**I'm listening but there's no sound...**_  
  
Bathed in the red of the dim room, the woman's hands calmly filled the pan with the necessary chemicals, the handgun and camera still resting within easy reach. With reverence, she slipped a white sheet into the liquid to begin the developing process.  
  
_**Isn't anyone trying to find me...**_  
  
Claire looked back from her living room clock, still standing by her rain soaked window. Several hours had already past since they last spoke, but Trevor still wasn't there. She glanced over at her closed front door, listening. But there was still no sound of footsteps, no knock, no answer, leaving her waiting, and alone. Worried, she began to pace.  
  
_**Won't somebody come take me home...**_  
  
In the rain, Trevor was doing the same, soaked to the bone as he paced on the bridge, suspended by it far over the river below, trying desperately to find the decision inside him. His chest churned and twisted at the thought of letting Claire go. But it did the same with the fear of finally ruining her life if he didn't. Trevor felt as if he had been stuck between those two worries all along, undecided for all these years.  
As it grew darker, he didn't notice that he wasn't alone. At the far end of the bridge, there was a small outline of someone hiding, silently watching him.  
  
_**It's a damn cold night...**_  
  
Another picture went in the darkened red room. After a few moments it quickly began to develop into an image.  
  
At the end of the bridge, the figure watching Trevor in the rain lifted a camera. A woman with startling blue eyes looked out from under the hood over her head, keeping her dry. Her lovely gaze was silent and intent, as she brought the camera sight up. Droplets of rain speckled the camera's surface as she held it.  
  
_**Tryin' to figure out this life...**_  
  
Through the downpour, the image in the camera's sight shifted and focused until it caught Trevor standing in the rain. The woman's gaze held steady, not blinking, like a hunter. In the dim light, it was far too distant for a camera flash. But she didn't need one. Instead she began to whisper to herself, certain, counting down, waiting for something. Just as she hit zero, she clicked in the exact same instant that there was a dazzling flash of bright lightning, illuminating everything for miles. Before her, the camera whirred quietly, mechanism moving to the next picture. Her gaze remained locked on Trevor, not blinking, before she began to whisper again finally, counting down to the next flash of lightning for the next confident click.  
In the darkened room of the abandoned house, the picture in the liquid finished developing into a clear image of Trevor standing alone on the bridge, deciding in the rain.  
  
_**Won't you... take me by the hand take me somewhere new...**_  
  
In her living room, Claire stopped and lowered her head, accepting the truth. It was getting late. Trevor had decided. He wasn't coming. Wiping away the tears on her face, Claire turned off the lights in her house one by one. Now in the dark, she slowly went up the steps to bed.  
  
Downtown, the bridge spanning the river was empty. No one was there anymore as lighting flashed and rain poured out of the sky.  
  
_**I don't know who you are, but I...**_  
  
Under the red light, another undeveloped sheet of white slipped into the liquid, settling to the bottom of the pan, the gun still resting on the table beside it. The submurged paper eventually began to darken, until outlines of another image began to emerge from the white. Soon it was almost recognizble, slowly growing more distinct in the liquid, looking almost like the shape of a step, a house, the vague outline of a front door...  
  
_**I'm with you...**_  
  
The stormy night sky was dark, rain falling past the streetlights in thick sheets. Walking underneath that glow, the shadowy figure of the hooded woman who had watched Trevor on the bridge passed silently. A few strands of blond hair swayed out from underneath the hood that kept the woman dry. Without a word, she walked down the center of the rain drenched steet, passing from light to shadow, moving towards Claire's house in the distance. No one else was around her.  
  
_**I'm looking for a place...**_  
  
On a completely different street, Trevor was heading in the opposite direction, his shoe splashing through a puddle already rippling with raindrops. But he didn't notice, his eyes forward, striding confidently towards home, absolutely certain in his decision.   
  
_**I'm searching for a face...  
Is anybody here I know?**_  
  
The light glowing through her bed room window was projecting the image of rain on her face. Claire was lying on her bed as she closed her eyes and wept. She felt it. It was finally over between her and Trevor. He no longer accepted the costs, the risks. Tears glistening on her cheeks, Claire turned her face from the speckled light, crying into her pillow as rain continued to pound against her bedroom window  
  
_**Cause nothing's going right...  
And everything's a mess...**_  
  
Alone and outside in the pouring rain, the blond woman cast a glance over at the bedroom window a few houses down, where Claire was crying. Closing her eyes, the woman waited patiently. It was almost time now. It would happen soon. The rain didn't seem to bother her at all. As she waited there, her heart hoping things didn't have to happen this way.  
Water was cascading down the brick wall behind her where she was hiding. The woman's shoulders lifted in a sigh, looking expectantly over at Claire's front door. Then slowly, she began to move closer.  
  
_**And no one likes to be alone...**_  
  
Trevor's foot splashed through another puddle, leaving ripples behind.  
  
Underneath the rippling liquid, the image in the pan coalesced, darkening even further into a house, growing even more distinct now. It began to show the figure of someone before the front door.  
  
_**Isn't someone trying to find me?**_  
  
Suddenly, Claire's head lifted from her tear stained pillow, her cheeks wet as she listened more carefully. There it was again, someone was knocking. Someone was knocking on her front door. Looking over at the window, she saw it was still raining heavily outisde. Quickly wrapping a robe around her, Claire rushed downstairs.  
  
_**Won't someone come take me home...**_  
  
Walking further away into the distance, Trevor's cheeks were wet with more than rain, realizing he had no other choice. He wondered why he had done any of this. In the end, it really was the only decision he could have ever made. Rain drops struck hard against his tear covered face, finally feeling certain, moving away across the wet sidewalk.  
  
_**It's a damn cold night...**_  
  
Outside Claire's front door, the woman waited, lifting something slowly in her hands, her steely, beautiful blue eyes unblinking, steady like a hunter as rain covered her too.  
  
_**Trying to figure out this life**_  
  
Claire rushed quickly down the stairs from the upper floor, thunder rumbling outside, her heart racing in her chest as she ran over to the front door...  
  
In the rain, the woman slowly lowered her gaze, her breath pausing in anticipation, waiting for the next moment to come...  
  
_**Take me by the hand...  
Take me somewhere new...**_  
  
Claire grabbed at her front door, pulling it open to find...  
  
Trevor was there. He was soaked, bathed in the light beside her front door. His hair wet and plastered against his dripping forehead, he looked at her sadly for a moment, everything in his eyes. He spoke softly, water dripping off his chin.  
"I'm sorry. I was crazy to doubt us. You're everything. I only want you, Claire. I only want you..."  
  
_**I don't know who you are, But I...**_  
  
With a relieved sob, Claire rushed into Trevor's arms, both kissing desperately as they wrapped their arms tightly around each other, water splashing from their embrace as the music swelled louder, overwhelming them in a rich crescendo of sensation.  
  
_**I'm with you...I'm with you...**_  
  
Standing there, watching the two of them with a stunned expression of shock on her face... was Faith. Slowly, she pushed the hood back off her blond hair, finally revealing her features from beneath it's shadows. In the hevy rain, she became quickly soaked, motionless in her despair. She had hoped against hope, wishing, praying that what she had predicted and seen wouldn't... But the truth was there in front of her now. And deep down, she had always known that it had to be this way.  
Faith's wet face crinkled with dismay, sobbing quietly in the rain. In her hand, she still held the camera, momentarily forgotten. But then she closed her eyes, tears flowing out onto her wet cheeks as she lifted the camera up and pointed it at Trevor and Claire kissing. As the rain constantly hit her face, she sobbed, her breath short and full of grief. No one heard her crying. No one saw her there. She was alone with her own certainty. Her eyes still shut closed, she finally pushed the shutter button and in that exct same instant another lightning flash illuminated the scene before her.  
  
Benath the liquid in the developing pan, the darkening picture finally came into view. It was an image of a house, a step, a front door, and two figurres standing there. They were motionless, caught in that one moment, kissing desperately in the rain and lit by a flash of lightning, Claire's front door open behind them.  
  
_**Why is everything so confusing...**_  
  
The front door slammed shut, closing away the watery downpour. Trevor and Claire stumbled into her living room as they kissed, and they began to remove each other's wet clothing. They were quickly naked and against each other, skin glistening with moisture as their hands roamed and their mouths devoured each other. The wide living room window was still being pelted with rain, flashing with lightning.  
Trevor and Claire didn't even see the window, no longer caring as they gave their bodies to each other without reservation. In one beautiful moment, the world outside ceased to exist, evaporating the fear of what anyone, either man or god, might think. They were both, finally certain. And all that matterred in that moment was what they felt for each other.  
Wrapped around each other, their naked bodies fell to the floor. Nothing would stop them anymore. And all that time, as lightning flashed, soon there was a dim unoticed shadow against the window above them.  
  
_**Maybe I'm just out of my mind...**_  
  
The glass outside was being feircely hit with rain as Faith stood inches from it, silently crying as she looked in. It was really over. Past the point of no return. Pausing, she quickly pulled off her raincoat, exposing her thin hospital clothes underneath to the cold and the rain. Sobbing quietly, she watched them make love in Claire's living room, tears falling freely down her face. She felt alone, abandoned, her shoulders begining to shake. No one heard her, or felt her pain. No one understood. Not even Trevor. She lifted the camera angrily again, and began taking more pitures through the glass, not stopping as the rain bounced off the smooth metal. Picture after picture, always inexplicably timed with a lightning flash, followed by the whirr as the camera reset, while inside, Trevor and Claire made love.  
Watching them with each picture, Faith accepted the awful truth of what she had to do. The lightning flashed bright on her pale skin. The clothing on her shoulder was soaked and clinging to her, water dripping down her arm. It moved down over the freshly cut tattoo of Cupid's name in a heart, mixing there with her blood.  
  
_**It's a damn cold night...**_  
  
Coming out of the shadows, bathed in the darkened room's red light, a woman's hand went through a small stack of completed photographs, examining them in sequence. There was an image of Trevor and Claire arguing before the hospital doors. A very close image of Claire's worried face as she passed nearby, unaware she was being photographed. A picture of Trevor on the bridge, alone in the rain. Trevor and Claire kissing on her doorstep. Then seen through the window... both of them naked, making love. A close up of Trevor's arm, showing the tattoo there, a heart with Claire's name in it.  
Each picture slipped past thew woman's fingers, calmly going back into the stack. Then she slipped them all into a large brown envelope, a single word written on the outside.  
  
_**Trying to figure out this life...**_  
  
Bright, clear morning light was glowing in the window, bathing Trevor and Claire's naked bodies, laying there in each other's arms on her living room floor. They were gently caressing each other, happy in the soft, warm glow of morning. Lying contently next to him, Claire smiled, her fingers softly grazing the tattoo on his arm.  
  
After unlocking his door, Frechette walked into his office, ready to start the day. But then he paused, his dour face looking down at the floor. A single brown envelope was lying inexplicably there in the morning sunlight before his desk. Frechette blinked. He was certain the door had been locked when he entered. Slowly reaching down, he lifted the envelope. It had a single word written on the outside.  
  
Proof.   
  
Still laying together on her living room floor, faces next to each other in the sunlight, Claire looked into Trevor's eyes. She carressed his face gently, her voice soft.  
"I love you, Trevor... No matter what happens..."  
  
_**Take me by the hand, take me somewhere new...**_  
  
Frechette was more stunned with every picture he saw, each more startling than the next. As he stood in disbelief there in his office, he knew... Faith had sent these. How had she done this? And then he realized what he finally had in his hands. This was it. Hard proof of what he had suspected all along.  
One picture paused in his hands. It was a close up of Trevor's arm as he lay naked with Claire. It clearly showed a heart tattoo with Claire's name on it. The exact same pattern Faith had been emulating for months and months. Frechette looked away, a chill filling him.  
  
_**I don't know who you are, but I...**_  
  
Darkness was falling as the sun set. Trevor stepped into his apartmenmt and closed the door behind him with a smile, having spent the day at Claire's. He sighed as the night continued to deepen around him. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Everything was right with the world. He walked happily across the shadows of his apartment, tossing his coat over onto the couch as he clicked on a light. Then he noticed something.  
There was a brown envelope on the floor of his apartment, simply lying there. Trevor bent down and picked it up. A single word was written on the outside.  
  
Release.   
  
Frowning, Trevor emptied the contents into his hand. There wasn't a stack of pictures. Only one photograph. A single close up image of Claire's worried face, along with a handwritten note to him. The song continued to play, a young female voice singing with emotion.  
  
_**I'm with you... I'm with you...**_  
  
As he held the same picture in his hands, Trevor's eyes shifted to the note, reading it. It was a woman's writing, writing that he instantly recognized. A deep cold panic passed through him as he read.  
  
_I love you, Eros. I know what I have to do now. To free you. To free us... _   
  
In the developing room, bathed in red light, the woman sealed all the pictures into the envelope marked Proof. All except one. She kept that one in her hand, the same one Trevor held, looking down at Claire's worried expression silently. Holding that one, she slowly reached over, and picked up the handgun from where it rested on the table.  
  
Trevor's mind turned, knowing it was Faith, wondering what she could mean with the note, with the picture of Claire. Then in one horryfying instant, he knew. It was all so shockingly clear.  
  
"Claire. Oh god... No..."   
  
_**I'm with you...**_  
  
As the music cadenced and then faded to silence, Claire's picture flutterred slowly to the ground. Trevor turned frantically, moving away out of view, already running.  
  


** to be continued on page 2... **

  
  



	2. Falling Home pg 2

The dim, shadow filled interior of Claire's apartment was motionless until her front door swung open and she came in, stepping across her doorstep. Outlined by the street lights outside, she paused, breathing contentedly for a moment, listening to the quiet serenity of her home, a subtle joy exuding from her.

With a subtle click, Claire sealed the door shut behind her, falling back into the comforting shadows. She walked further in, slipping her coat easily off her shoulders. It dropped absently from her hands onto the back of the couch. She walked past it with a smile, not even watching where it fell. Claire's face was glowing. Somehow, she finally felt completely alive. Her mind, her heart, was still a million miles away, lingering on her incredible day with Trevor. Even without him there, Claire still floated, distracted as she crossed her dark living room. Every part of her body was still swimming in the warmth and exhilaration of the past 24 hours. Her skin still seemed to tingle with hundreds of remembered touches, like phantom caresses across her form.

She could still feel Trevor's mouth on hers, and thinking of that she grazed her fingers over her lips. The day had left her flush and warm with a universe of possibilities. Without a second thought, Claire walked towards her kitchen, already humming a happy tune to herself, when suddenly she stopped as an unexpected coldness hit her. She pulled her arms in tight, crossing them across her button blouse, rubbing her hands over her arms as she shuddered. Standing there alone in the dark, Claire looked across her living room. Outline against the window, the large shadow of one of her house plants inexplicably... moved. Claire looked at it for a moment, wondering. Curious, she walked towards it.

Suddenly, she stopped again, her body tensing as the large plant shifted again, the white sway of curtain behind moving too. Worried, Claire came closer, now cautious, slowly reaching out. Grabbing the curtain she quickly slid it back, blinking at what she saw.

Behind the curtain, she had left the side window open. Another icy breeze wafted through, swaying the plant and the curtain again, before washing coldly over her skin.

Shivering, Claire stepped forward. With both hands she pulled the window down with a loud comforting thump, sealing her home into a calm stillness again. Thinking, she clicked the locks into place, trying to recall when she had last opened that window, not able to remember doing it. It must have slipped her mind with all that had happened. She turned and walked away, humming happily again, already thinking about her and Trevor and not giving it a second thought.

After moving out of sight, the sound of her humming faded, growing dimmer and dimmer. Soon there was the soft sounds of her steps on the stairs, rising as she walked up in the dark. Left there in silence, the white curtain became completely still. The plant no longer swayed. Dim on the wall nearby was a closet door, the cool surface of it's doorknob reflecting the small light penetrating through the window. Everything was quiet, motionless in the deep shadows, covered in night. Then, after several long moments, the unnoticed doorknob on the dim closet door ever so slowly... began to turn.

Upstairs Claire flipped on the lights in her darkened bedroom, two lamps on night stands driving away the shadows with a soft, comforting glow. Passing them by, she stepped quietly onto the floor of her tiled bathroom, another light flicking brightly to life above. Her hand reached down. Without thought, her fingers moved over the silver surface of the shower's water faucets, spinning them both on, water spraying suddenly down with a soft hiss. Tired, Claire opened a cabinet beside the shower and took out a towel, laying it down within reach as she started to unbutton her blouse, eager for a shower at last.

Downstairs, surrounded on all sides by darkness, a few delicate beams of moonlight were angling in through the windows and onto the floor of Claire's living room. In the silence, a shadow moved. Without warning a silver handgun lifted into the light, held there as a woman's pale fingers moved over it's cold surface lovingly, the metal glinting in the glow of the moon. With a slow click, the woman's hands quietly checked the chamber, making sure it was fully loaded. The only other sound sound was the soft hiss of the shower running upstairs. Silent, the unseen form holding the hand gun disappeared again into the shadows, heading towards Claire's bedroom.

Bathed in the bright lights of her bathroom, Claire was looking at herself in the mirror over the sink, noticing blemishes on her skin, the occasional new wrinkle. Intent on her inspection, she continued, still partially dressed in a bra and dress slacks, her button shirt set aside nearby. Behind her the shower was still running, unnoticed, when suddenly Claire felt a familiar chill crawl across her shoulders, just like the one she felt downstairs, Tensing, she somehow felt exposed and didn't know why. She slipped the blouse back on for a moment, feeling cold. But there was something more, something else she was sensing, making her slowly turn her head. Claire strained to hear... sure she had heard something just a moment before.

Claire moved, facing the open doorway behind her. The interior of her bedroom was dim beyond, seeing only the bed and wall. The door was still open, wide and empty, nothing moving in the room. Claire blinked, waiting. Something struck her as odd, unable to put a finger on the sudden nervousness she felt, just watching, not moving. Reaching over, she quickly turned off the running water, the bathroom going quiet except for the slowing residual drops falling from the shower head. Claire paused, listening even more intently now in the new silence, growing more concerned. The looming open doorway to her bedroom felt menacing somehow she couldn't explain as carefully, she continued to listen. And finally, she heard it.

Music.

Claire's breath stilled, a coldness flowing over her exposed, wet skin at the sound of the dim, far off music playing in her home, inexplicable, halting, haunting music, just perceptible to the ear. She didn't move, her face going blank. Staying calm, finally she buttoned her blouse again, stepping out of the bathroom. Cautiously, she stepped into the dimmer light of her bedroom, concern in her gaze, eyes steady before her. The open door into the hallway was dark, like a shadowed portal into something unknown, growing larger as she slowly approached. The strange, ominous music grew louder slightly. It was still dim, coming from downstairs.

The dim shadows of the hallway walls slid slowly by on either side of her as she moved. But there was utter silence in her home except for the music, as if every other sound was hiding, waiting. The approaching stairwell opened like a pit before her, and she paused, looking down. There was nothing but shadows and faint light beneath. And softly rising up to her, the sounds of an orchestra, more clearly now. Gripping the rail for support, Claire took a step down into the darkness, her eyes adjusting, searching.

The plane of the ceiling rose out of view, revealing her dark living room. No one was there. Nothing moved except the shadows of trees on her curtains, trees dancing wildly in a silent wind. And above all now, music. Slow, ominous music. Her eyes moved to a small blue light glowing coldly across the room. She walked through the darkness and over to it. It was the digital display on her stereo, playing a cd, no other light in the room. It's blue glow lit her darkened face as her brow wrinkled, blackness behind her as she wondered why her stereo was on. She hadn't turned it on when she came in. Blinking she looked at the readout, the music still playing, soft, eerie as it scrolled a title, **The Nutcracker Suite.**.

Claire blinked. She didn't even own a CD like that. What was going on? She looked around, but nothing moved in the shadows. Still, she had the strange sensation that she was being watched. Confused, she looked back at the stereo, and then something caught her eye, making her lips part in surprise. Slowly reaching out, her fingers slipped over a small golden statue of Eros that wasn't hers. she had never seen it before, it's face frozen in a silent laugh, it's arrow pointed straight at her chest.

Without a sound, Claire's body froze, realizing who that statue had belonged to, recognizing it. The sensation on her back of someone watching her grew even stronger, but she couldn't bring herself to turn around. And then somehow, she felt it. One of the shadows behind her... was already moving. Claire's breath was soft, quick and shallow, her pulse quickening as the music played and she tried not to move, the stairwell a few steps behind her. Without turning her head, she could see it out of the corner of her eye, a new outline moving against the light of the windows. And then, something lifted, and the small, quiet click of a lever being pulled back.

The living room around her burst into dizzying motion as in an instant, Claire darted for the stairs, desperate to leave as she ran upward, her breath loud and fast as she pounded up the steps, the walls bouncing and quivering in a dizzy vista of motion. The music followed her, filling her home all around her, slow and patient. Claire plastered herself against the wall in the hallway, looking back. She could still hear pounding like someone was running up the stairs, until she realized it was the frantic sound of her heart beating in her ears. Her breath was going a thousand miles per hour, as she watched, waited. . But now, there was no sound but the music.

Claire darted across the hallway and into her bedroom, quietly closing the door. She began to clear her head, thinking what to do, eyes locked onto the doorknob, watching it. She grabbed at the cordless phone, taking it with her, her mind working. She knew someone was down there. She was certain she had heard the sound of a gun, heard it click, ready to fire.. But above all, she knew that statue downstairs. She knew who that shadow had been. Claire reached over, turning out lights quickly, not wanting to be an easy, well lit target from the shadows. She rushed into her bathroom, locking the door. Quickly she dialed 911.

In the shadows downstairs Faith waited, listening calmly to the music. With a smile she watched, watching as the phone near her suddenly came to life with a red LED light, next to the words In Use. She waited patiently, giving Claire the time she knew she needed.

A calm voice picked up, speaking through the phone against Claire's ear.

"_911. What's your emergency?_"

"Hi. I'm trapped by an intruder in my house. My name is Claire Allen at--"

The interior of the cop car was silent, it's engine quiet until the dispatch radio screeched suddenly to life, grabbing the attention of the two police officers in the car. The same female voice came blaring through, breaking the quiet as the two men leaned forward in attention.

_"Unit 323, report of an armed intruder, possible mental patient--"_

The engine suddenly roared louder as the car accelerated, one of the men answering the call as the other buckled down loose objects in the compartment. The two police officers watched the reflected city lights of Chicago swivel over their dark hood as they raced around a corner, the world around turning to motion and light as their siren suddenly broke the night air and slower cars sped past on either side, a blanket of red and blue flashing out over everything as they raced forward.

"_Ok, Ma'am. A cruiser is on the way. Stay on the line with me. Are you in a safe location?_"

Claire was crouched down, listening to the voice of the 911 operator on the phone as she tried to stay calm, eyes locked on the door. "Yes, I'm in my locked bathroom, but please, hurry! I think---"

Without warning the house went dark. Claire paused in the new silence, her breath sounding quick, loud, the only sound for several endless moments. The bathroom was now dark, and the cordless phone was dead against her ear, the base unit dying once the power shut off.

Claire tensed, remaining motionless, engulfed in darkness, listening intently. Then without warning, her bedroom doorknob shook violently, her frightened eyes locking onto it as it twisted frantically. Someone beyond was trying to open the door. And then... it stopped. The doorknob became still.

Claire held her breath for several seconds, listening in the silence, wondering if Faith had given up. She was just about to exhale when a loud, close bang cut into her ears, followed by another and a searing flash of very bright light as fragments of wood pelted her. Two new smoking bullet holes were in the wall inches beside her head. Her eyes traveled to the lock of the bathroom door, seeing it was shattered and twisted, totally shot away.

In the squad car interior as it raced along, still miles from Claire's home, the radio burst to life again as swirling police lights swept the dark streets beyond.

"_Shots fired, shots fired. Receiving reports of the sound of gunfire inside the--_"

"Damn it... Step on it." The other officer muttered to the driver, the car engine revving louder as the cruiser sped faster, the streets blurring as he reached down and unholstered his gun, cursing softly.

Claire watched as more fragments of her bedroom door fell loudly to the ground from where it had been shot away, the eerie nutcracker suite music still playing from downstairs. Through the hole she could see a shadow in the dark, something was moving quietly, carefully coming close. The door began to slowly open..

With a yell Claire jumped to her feet and charged, desperately slamming to door at a full run with all her might from the inside. she felt it hit something solid on the other side but she didn't wait, the world spinning as she wrenched the door open and sprinted past into her darkened bedroom and out into the hallway. Breathing loudly in total fear, she fled mindlessly, feeling her back exposed, dreading the puncture of bullets that at any second could be slicing through her body, her head, tensing for the painful impact. All her body tingled with fear as she ran, bounding desperately down the jet black hallway, knocking pictures off in her haste to steady herself in the dark.

The music was growing louder, coming from the stairwell at the end of the hall. There was a dim light rising, realizing there must still be power downstairs. She was running. Always running. Like the recurring dream she had over and over. This was usually only a few seconds distance, but now it seemed so far. The hallway had never seemed so far before. There were already running steps behind her, but she didn't turn. Then she knew. She wasn't going to make it.

Suddenly there was another bang and flash of light. The glass covering a picture of her father in a frame shattered at the end of the hall. Claire cringed down, darting to one side, her shoulder slamming the guest bedroom door beside her open without thought, entering to get out of the open, realizing that had ll happened in less than two seconds. She quickly closed the guest bedroom door and locked it. Turning s he searched immediately for where she could escape to, her eyes darting to the dim glow of the window, thinking of the drop beyond. She would go ahead and risk it. Resolved, she was about to step forward, her breath racing with fear when in the quiet and without warning, only a few inches behind her head, she heard a soft, unexpected metallic click. She froze instantly, knowing that a round had been chambered yet again.

Claire's breath stilled, body trying not to shake, feeling the raised gun invisibly, mere inches from her skull. Slowly she turned around. Faith was standing there, watching her calmly, her arm extended straight. In her hand she held a cold silver handgun, its metal glinting in the soft light from the window. Unwavering, the dark opening of the gun barrel was pointing right at her face, close enough to smell the gunpowder from the previous shots. Behind Faith, the locked bedroom door was mysteriously open and against the wall, as if Claire had never closed it at all. Faith had come through anyway, without even a pause. Claire had not even heard it open.

Looking into Faith's blue eyes, Claire realized realized in shock that there was no anger there. Only... emptiness. Resolve. Certainty... Faith's hair was unkempt, frazzled, as if it had been through dirt and rain, hanging down like a dead, decaying thing. Underneath the new looking coat she wore, she still wore the now blotched hospital scrubs she had escaped in, the leg bottoms caked in mud.

"Mary--" Claire began, trying to sound reasonable.

Faith's fingers instantly gripped the gun tighter, shoving it forward.

"Faith!" Claire corrected quickly. "I meant Faith. Faith... everything can still be okay. Its not to late to stop. We can both stop this. Right now..."

Faith watched Claire curiously, as if barely listening, analyzing her instead, sizing her up. "Why do I need to stop? I'm the messenger of the gods," she said simply.

Claire slowly backed up, putting space between the two of them, trying not to be noticed doing it. "Faith... I know you. I know you're hurting..."

Not moving from where she stood, the gun Faith held still slowly tracked with Claire as she shifted, not leaving her. Claire inched even further back.

"Faith you're in pain. You don't have to do this. Deep inside, I know it's because you're hurting--"

"Now you'll be hurting too..." Faith took a small step forward, following Claire, leaving the open bedroom door behind her. The gun remained steady on Claire's face as she stepped closer, "You're not so much, you know. I see you. You're nothing special. Me and Trevor. We're different. But I look at you, I just can't figure it out..."

Claire kept backing away, the gun inching closer. Not watching behind her, she bumped into a dresser sending a vase crashing loudly to the floor. There was another loud crash beyond the bedroom door, another picture falling in the hallway perhaps. Claire looked into Faith's eyes, trying to keep her talking. Trying to buy time. "What can't you figure out, Faith..."

"Why he loves you..."

Sliding sideways, Claire was now backed up against the wall, but Faith kept coming closer. Claire listened desperately for the sound of approaching police sirens, but she could only hear the music downstairs. And the unexplained thumping, growing louder, heart racing. "Trevor's not here, Faith. You can't hurt him..."

Faith pointed at the center of Claire's forehead. "I'm not here to hurt Trevor. I'm here to save him. He's not yours. He's mine. I finally figured it out. He needs to go home. The only thing keeping him here... is you."

Claire realized in that moment, what Faith meant, knew what she was so resolved to do A tear fell down Claire's cheek, knowing it was too late. It was over, just the two of them. Claire closed her eyes, waiting for the shot to come, lips quivering as she whispered.

"I love you, Trevor..."

Claire screamed as there was a flash of light and a loud bang, the sound of things falling as Claire opened her eyes to see a blur being tackled to the ground, crashing to the floor beside her as the fragments of the window to her side where the bullet had passed through broke onto the floor. There was a flurry of motion, the gun sliding across the floor and far out of reach, barrel still smoking. Two people were fighting on the ground, wrestling fiercely. Shocked, Claire realized Trevor was there, there wrestling with Faith.

Moving forward, Claire tried to help, but Faith saw her coming a leveled a kick directly into her stomach, doubling her over in a blinding pain. Eyes clearing as she collapsed down, Claire saw Trevor rolling over Faiths body, a fiery combative glint in his eyes. But Faith was suprisingly strong, spurred on by white hot certainty and fervor inside her, almost inhuman. Tiny as she was, she held off Trevor as they both rose to their feet. Her hand slammed across him, blood coming down his forehead. Then with a feral yell, she threw Trevor across the empty bed, crashing him down to the other side. Claire watched Trevor's head hit the corner of the night stand, and Trevor struggled to regain his senses through the pain.

"Trevor!" Claire called out, trying to rise off the floor and go to him, but Faith stepped between them. Frantic now, Faith looked around, eyes desperately searching for her gun again, but she couldn't find it. Behind her, it was obvious Trevor was already beginning to come to, about to get up again. Faith's eyes locked with Claire's and they both knew it. Faith was out of time. She had to act quickly. Reaching into a pocket in her scrubs, Faith pulled out a long knife, stepping towards her. Claire scrambled on the floor. Trevor was nowhere near. He was too far away as Faith loomed over, knife raised, ready to plunge it into Claire's body.

Faith whispered, certain. "May the gods guide my path..."

Suddenly, all Claire saw was white, and a loud bang. The knife slipped from Faith's fingers, clattering to the floor as she stood there. Faith looked down, hands touching the small hole in her scrubs over her chest that had not been there seconds before, the fabric around it already growing wet, a darkness spreading out slowly through the fabric and down, streaking red.

Claire couldn't believe what she was seeing. Faith's body collapsed onto the floor. Beyond, Trevor was sitting up, Faith's gun held in both hands unmoving from where he had fired into her. And then... Faith smiled, eyes glittering as she lay there on her side, watching Trevor lovingly across the room. "Always the marksman... Thank you. Thank you, Trevor. You saved me. Always knew you would. Right on cue." Faith gave a watery cough, blood trickling from the corner of her lips. She lowered her head down, as if tired, needing to rest, eyes glittering happily. "Free now. I'll be waiting... on Olympus my love..."

Faith's breathing stopped, her eyes turned to empty glass, smiling, blood still pouring out of her, spreading on the floor. Trevor was still in shock, not sure what had just happened, the gun in his hand. His jaw dropped, realizing what he had just done, whispering.

"Oh, I am fortune's fool..."

_to be continued on page 3... _


	3. Falling Home pg 3

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"Oh my god..." Claire whispered softly from the shadows. Slowly, she rose to her feet off the darkened floor, shock in her eyes. Her ears were ringing, residual from the loud crack of the gunshot. The silent room around her seemed stuck in time as she looked down on the dead form of Faith, lying in a small pool of blood on the floor. Seated across the room, Trevor was still pointing the gun at her as if he were paralyzed, trying to understand. Even Claire felt her body tingling with disbelief, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. The entire world had suddenly gone insane.

Growing even more terrified by the second, she looked past the smoke rising from the gun muzzle, and at Trevor's eyes. She could hear him breathing, strangely loud and fragile in the quiet. After a few shaky seconds, he took his eyes off the body and finally looked up at her. The gun he held was still aimed at Faith, but then his fingers loosened their tight grip, his eyes never leaving Claire now as he lowered it. He placed it on the floor beside him, still watching her as a tear fell down the shadow of his cheek. A siren grew louder in the distance, the sound growing clearer as it approached. The police were coming nearer by the second, the wail of their cruiser growing more distinct.

Trevor's face emptied, still looking at Claire. And then without warning she knew, knew that he saw it, in that same horrible instant. They both remembered what Frechette had vowed to Trevor. Claire searched for something to say, but the finality in Trevor's sad, glittering eyes stopped whatever she was struggling to say. They both know deep down it was futile. Everything was different now.

Trevor spoke softly, the police sirens no longer faint, still growing louder. "It's over..."

"Trevor--" Claire began, but Trevor rose and immediately dashed out of the bedroom door. She immediately followed without thinking, chasing his running form, fleeing from the image behind her of Faith's cold, empty eyes, running from the smell of blood and burnt gunpowder. She ran after Trevor, as it seemed that the world invisibly crashed all around her.

She pounded frantically through the darkness of her upper floor hallway, racing down the stairs after Trevor. But he was fast, already out of sight ahead of her. Her living room bounced and shook into view, everything dark except for the curtains glowing with the streetlights behind them. Desperate, Claire looked around for Trevor but he was gone. Her front door was a square of light in the shadows, left open as she ran towards it. Her jumbled mind registered the fragments of shattered wood on the floor. Trevor had busted the door open when he came in earlier, explaining the crashing sound she had heard before. But she didn't pause, running through it after him, wanting to be with him almost without conscious thought.

Then Claire was out in the chill of the night air, the feel of it crisp on her skin. The rest of the street in either direction was inexplicably serene, as if the world hadn't just changed at all. She paused on the sidewalk, breathing heavily as her mind fumbled over what to do. Trevor was nowhere in sight. She had to find him. It couldn't end this way. Sirens were growing louder now, outside in the night air, echoing off the houses up and down the street. She didn't care, nothing else mattered except being with Trevor before things got worse, wishing he wasn't running from her. The wail of the police car reached a loud peak. Around the corner at the end of the block, red and blue swaths of light were already sweeping over everything. Claire ran down the street, knowing time was running out, searching, calling out Trevor's name.

"Trevor!"

By the time the headlights of the police cruiser appeared around the corner, Claire was gone. The car raced down the street, a dazzling swirl of blinding colors as the siren screamed, cutting the serenity of the suburban block. The car's tires screeched loudly to a halt outside Claire's home. Beyond was the dark portal of Claire's shattered front door, still open, as guns drawn, the police officers went cautiously inside. Then their figures faded to nothing, the sky above brightening to morning light. There were even more vehicles now, dozens, all fading into view around the police car, a swarm of activity in the cold dawn, officers and detectives moving across the scene.

----------

The clear morning light was crisp and pure as it beamed down through the shattered window. A cool breeze wafted into Claire's quiet guest bedroom, flowing past the broken glass, spreading the smell of blood through the room as it billowed past the curtains, where people moved calmly back and forth, speaking in hushed voices. There was the soft click of a camera and a quick flash of light. Several detectives were moving about, looking at all the disarray, all dressed in suits and discussing it quietly amongst themselves. Then another man entered, standing beside the bedroom door. His hand was all that was visible, uncomfortably holding a brown file, pausing at what he saw in the room. For a second, the fingers gripped the file more tightly, perhaps in shock. Then in the room he faced, one of the detectives looked over at him. 

"Dr. Frechette..." the lead detective acknowledged.

Dr. Frechette was stunned at what he saw. Without thinking, he brought a fist to his nose at the strong taint of blood in the air. His eyes were wide, trying to take in the unbelievable scene before him. Already his mind was swimming with images, the police cars dotting the street before Claire Allen's house, the wood slivers of the broken front door, bullet holes in the walls, shattered picture frames. All those things he had seen when he entered, and they were still tumbling through his mind. He had never imagined he would ever even be in Claire Allen's home, and definitely not like this. The echoes of violence lingered in all those chaotic pieces, and now, most shocking of all, was this. Frechette still looked downward, his eyes fixed on the floor before the window. The detectives in the room saw the direction of his stunned gaze and faced calmly away, giving him time to take it all in. 

There was glass on the floor. A large dark stain had dried there, filling the air with it's sickening smell. And lying on top of that, was Faith's pale, empty body, draped in muddied scrubs, motionless, blond hair caked into the dried blood on the floor, like a frozen picture that had never been alive. Frechette's eyes crinkled, a shadow of sadness, remembering all the time he had spent in sessions with her, trying to help her. He never expected to see her like this. But then his brow hardened, an angry shield, shutting that away. His expression grew cold, the sadness swallowed deep, hovering and hidden, but still there.

"Dr. Frechette, thanks for coming..." One of the detectives came forward, an older man, extending his hand. Frechette looked him in the eye for only a moment as their hands shook, his gaze returning to Faith's body, lying on the floor like a weighted mass. The two men slowly stepped closer, side by side as the detective explained. "Sorry about needing to see you about this, but she had no family, and we need a positive ID. Plus we'd also like to ask you a few questions about her circumstances..."

As they approached, Faith's body seemed to slide closer, and it was only then that he realized the hand he used to carry the file was shaking, trying not to vomit, keeping it all inside. Quickly he stabilized the tremor with his free hand, moving the brown file aside. He gave the detective a steely gaze, domineering again.

"I have some questions of my own, Detective. Like how did all this happen? And most importantly... where is Claire Allen?" 

----------

Claire was freezing, frantic as she wandered the cold morning streets of Chicago, arms around herself and trying to keep warm, her chin shivering. She was just barely below a dazed panic, her cheeks dried with tears, as her gaze searched desperately in every direction, body turning in place. Skyscrapers towered all around her as her steps drifted, moving into a gulf where the morning sun had broken through, its orange rays giving her some relief from the cold. She hardly noticed at all in her desperation. She still had seen no signs of Trevor, and deep down she was frantic to find him, to get back some part of what seemed to have shattered hours before. Fear after fear tumbled through her mind of what he might do, broken and alone. He had killed. How would that affect him? He shouldn't be with that all alone.

Here eyes darted left and right, her quick breaths misting into golden orange in the morning light. Then suddenly she stopped, the sun now rising behind her as her mind raced, feeling each second pass. It had all happened in such an insane pace, all of last night, all of the consequences that seemed to be falling down around her. But somehow in all that insanity, the only sane thing seemed to be to face it at Trevor's side, the two of them together. That was home. That's why she had to find him. Because no matter where he went or what happened, he wasn't alone.

"Trevor, where are you?" Claire turned in place again, searching, her heart beating like a ticking clock. The sidewalks were starting to fill, the morning business crowds going off to an uneventful day of work. Some of them gave her strange looks, seeing her bruised, battered, the slightest bit of blood on her as she shivered there, searching. And as she looked around, the high skyscrapers seemed to spin above her head. 

"Think, Claire, think..." She closed her eyes, trying to reason where Trevor would go. Where would he retreat to? Where would he feel safe, and try to find solace? Then suddenly it hit her, remembering something Trevor had told her when he had been worried about dying, about being mortal. A place he had gone to think, to evaluate and reconsider. Claire opened her eyes, turning to look into the sun, to where it was just now cresting one simple, distant downtown building with a stone dome high in the air, the golden rays shining past it in the morning mist, the same place she remembered.

"He would climb towards home..." Claire's eyes locked on that distant building, and she started walking into the morning light, heading quickly in that direction, the sun flaring until it obscured her from view in the shadows.

----------

The detective looked into Frechette's eyes, both of them still standing by Faith's body.

"Last night we received an emergency call from Claire Allen of an intruder in her home. A unit was dispatched and already in route when we lost contact. A few minutes later, neighbors called in hearing shots fired. The woman across the street described seeing a man enter the front door after the shots began. We don't know who that individual wa--"

"Trevor Hale. It was most likely him. He's always around Mrs. Allen. In one way or another." Frechette's voice was certain as he circled the body, growing more accustomed slightly. Beside him, the detective pulled out a pad and began writing down some of the information. Frechette kneeled closer. . There was a dark scar of dried blood on her arm, where she had carved a heart surrounding the name Cupid into her delicate skin. Anger flared momentarily through him at Trevor's interference, but that was quickly swallowed by sadness, looking down at what had happened to her in the end. After a moment he began to reach out, to push Faith's hair softly away from her face, but the detective spoke quickly.

"Please don't disturb the body, Doctor." The tone of the detective's voice made it clear that it was not a friendly request.

Frechette swallowed, pulling his hand back before it got nearer. "Right..." he muttered. He rose again, angry at having been addressed in that way. The detective didn't seem to care at all, going on with his description. 

"As you saw coming in, there were definite signs of a struggle. We found a gun in the corner, most likely the murder weapon. By the condition of the body when the officer's found it, she had only been killed a few minutes before. There was no one else in the house, and --"

"Oh my god..." Frechette's voice was a shocked whisper in a moment of sudden insight, a dreadful realization dawning on him at last. His body pulled back, dazed by the knowledge. Then his brow hardened in anger. It was all suddenly so clear. "Trevor Hale. He shot Mrs. Simmons. He killed her..." 

----------

A strong wind was slicing coldly across Claire's exposed skin the instant she stepped out into the open air of the observation deck balcony, just as she had remembered. She was high above the noise and bustle of the busy, downtown streets of Chicago far below. She paused, quickly looking all around. Everything was done in elaborately carved stone, the balcony edged by a simple stone railing, where the soft hum of traffic was rising up from the abyss beyond. Even taller skyscrapers towered higher up on all sides, reaching towards the blue of the morning sky, as the sunlight flowed in between them in golden rays, sparkling in her eyes as it bounced off hundreds of windows, bathing her in light. But the sunlight did nothing against the chill, the cold breeze still flowing over the balcony, wafting through her dark hair.

Claire stepped forward, momentarily panicking, seeing no one there. Perhaps her guess had been wrong. Until she suddenly felt rather than saw the mass of the large ornate dome rising behind her as she stepped further out onto the balcony. Stopping, she turned around. The dome itself was large, just as elaborate as the rest of the balcony, set against the extremely high sky far above it, where they gray tatters of clouds slid by in strips, caught in the morning breeze. That was where she saw him, a small shape, sitting at the very pinnacle of the dome. It was the forlorn outline of a man, no concern for his precarious position, staring up into the sky.

Her eyes began to glitter in the sunlight, seeing him so far above her. Even from here, she could feel it. His shoulders were fallen, an immeasurable sorrow emanating from his every aspect, a defeated, broken god. Claire paused, feeling that same pain inside herself. The whole world around her now felt ugly and uncertain, like she was floating on a tainted, cold wind. She wished for a moment things were just solid again, realizing they weren't , while watching Trevor outlined there against the sky. Trying not to cry, her hair flapping before her eyes, she finally called out, trying to be heard over the wind. 

"Trevor! Trevor please! Come down..."

Far above, Trevor turned his head and looked down at her, not surprised to see her standing there at all, as if he already knew she would find him. Even from where she was, she could see the tears flowing down his face. He stayed where he was, watching her for a few moments, as if trying to decide. Then, without a word, he started his way back down to her.

----------

Fury flashed in Frechette's eyes. The same morning light flowed in through the broken window of Claire's home far from the skyscraper, but he ignored it. His voice was animated and fast as he spoke with the detective, standing beside Faith's body. "This is Trevor Hale's doing. He's involved! I know it. I should have predicted he would--"

"Wait, slow down Doctor. Why do you think it was Trevor Hale? Who is this guy?"

"Well, that's the question, isn't it? He's just a man..."

----------

Trevor was just a small shadow, making his way down the side of the huge dome, almost unnoticeable, outlined against the skyscrapers beyond. Frechette's voice continued, speaking far away, as Trevor carefully made his way back down.

_"Trevor Hale is nothing more than a delusional man, a misguided individual who somehow became fixated with this inane concept that he was somehow, something more. With trying to crawl back up into the sky, back up into Olympus instead of coming down and facing the real world..."_

Trevor's body seemed full of sadness as he lowered himself down the side of the dome, growing smaller the lower he got, even as the dome itself got wider, just a small figure, soon forgotten as it disappeared from view.

----------

Back in Claire's home, Frechette continued. "Despite undergoing treatment, Mr. Hale still maintains his delusion of godhood. He continued to be involved with my patient, interfering with my treatment of her for sometime. Her delusion played into his... his ego. And now we see the result. I warned Trevor against this! I warned him and he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't listen..."

The detective was still writing. "But what motive would Mr. Hale have for shooting Mrs. Simmons."

"She herself shot him. Some time ago. He nearly died. She proved him to be the mere mortal that he is. Denied him his delusion. Trevor must have felt the need to retaliate."

"But witnesses across the street heard shots fired before Mr. Hale entered the--"

"It was him! Faith gave me vague suspicions of some sort of action by Trevor, but I couldn't imagine he would go this far. But now I'm certain. Check the murder weapon. I have no doubt his prints will be on the gun." Frechette's eyes seethed, his voice low and full of menace. "He can't get away with this. He's out there. We have to find him."

----------

Trevor was standing there with his back to Claire, the deep expanse of downtown Chicago arrayed before him. Claire stood nearby, looking at him with concern. He still wasn't completely down on the balcony with her. Instead, he was standing on the wide stone railing. Carefully, she stepped slightly closer, fear in her eyes. Trevor didn't move, looking despondently over the city. He was firmly on the wide stone ledge of the railing on the observation deck, but there was nothing beyond that. His steps were only inches away from the edge of the deep chasm beyond.

"Trevor..."

His voice was soft, still not looking at her. "She told me where to find her. She basically told me where she was. Now... Everything's different..."

"What?" She took a step closer.

"It's all changed, Claire. All different. I killed her. I took a life. I've never--" Trevor paused, wiping away a tear, blinking. "Father would be so proud..."

"Trevor, please. Come onto the balcony with me. I'm here. We'll get through this..."

----------

Unseen behind them was a concerned looking man in a suit and tie. He was an employee of the building below, and his brow was furrowed, watching the two of them, a crying man, and a woman trying desperately to talk him desperately of the stone ledge he stood on. The building representative kept a discreet distance, tension in his voice as he lifted a small walkie talkie from his jacket pocket and spoke softly into it, still in the shadows.

"We may have a situation here..."

----------

Trevor and Claire still didn't see him.

"Sometimes..." He still wouldn't look at her, gazing out into gulf of air before him, skyscrapers towering all around. Now Claire, sometimes even I wonder. Wonder if I'm really him. Wonder who I am. After doing what I did, I've never doubted as much as I do right now. I don't know who I am. Am I even him anymore?"

"She was trying to kill me, Trevor."

"I know. Just like I know who I used to be. And that wasn't someone who ki--..."

"I still love you. You're still Trevor." She stepped closer. 

Finally he looked her, eyes full of tears. "Yeah, but that's the question, isn't it? Who am I? Maybe now, at last it's finally gone. Taken away, and they'll never give it back. Am I still Cupid? Would I even know it if I weren't?"

Instead of answering, Claire went still, her whole body going tense as she watched Trevor step closer to the edge, his voice said, half of his shoes out over nothing. She looked into his eyes. There were tears there, but no fear. He was looking out at the city, staring at nothing, his cheeks drying in the breeze.

"I told Dr. Dehnt once. That sometimes I wonder... if I should just find out. Just step off and--"

Her hand darted out when his left foot step calmly forward into thin air, but instead it paused, hovering there, and Claire, tears still in her eyes too, held her breath.

"One test," Trevor said. "One leap of Faith. Then I'd know. Find out who I am. See if I'm immortal. Still accepted. See if I'm still... Cupid."

"Trevor, please... Trevor this is just what Faith wanted! For you to feel remorse, to seek redemption through death, to be just like her. Don't you see? Why do you think she told you where to find her and not just kill me. Don't give in to her, Trevor!" 

He placed his foot back on the ledge, looking at her. "Claire, it's far more complicated than that. I rejected the gods. I killed someone named Faith for Olympus sakes. Maybe I should see if they still reject me. See if they'll take me back. Or if they'll let me fall, and end all these questions. Maybe the answers... are out here past this ledge..." He pointed out into the air, looking at her. "Even now, sometimes, I still dream what it would be like to have wings again... " Slowly, he spread his arms out, straight to either side. 

"Trevor, you can't. Please..."

"Why? Don't approve of my little game of chicken with the gods?"

"Trevor, don't leave me..."

Trevor looked over at her, his vision watery and blurring, hearing the pain in her voice. And then he saw it, through his tears, a vague ghost image, like faint streams of bubbles rising between the two of them, as if they were both underwater. He had seen the vision before, but not for some time, remembering the experience in the psychic's tent, Claire lifeless underwater, him pulling her up, blood streaming from her forehead. He blinked the water away, the tears falling down his cheeks, and he saw her. Saw Claire, standing there beside the balcony railing, absolute terror in her eyes. Claire spoke again, the vision now gone. 

"Trevor don't do this to me, please. Stay with me..."

And suddenly, Trevor realized the pain he was putting her through, as if finally seeing it for the first time. Unnoticed far behind them was the building representative, watching keenly, tense but keeping a discrete distance, concerned what Trevor would do. Trevor's face fell, finally deciding. Claire wiped away a tear from her face, and her hand reached out, arm stretched towards him, hovering there, against the morning skyline of Chicago beyond, waiting. 

Trevor wiped away his own tears. He reached out and took Claire's hand in his, real and solid against him. Their hands gripped tightly, holding on, their finger intertwining. Claire let out one sobbing laugh, finally touching him, holding him. Trevor stepped off the balcony railing.

----------

The police detective's voice grew harsher, exasperated. "At this point, we really don't know much. All we know is that Mrs. Simmons is dead, Mrs. Allen is missing, and Mr. Hale may somehow be involved--"

"Oh Mr. Hale is involved," Frechette interrupted, looking angrily at Faith's body. "One way or another... he's always near Claire Allen."

----------

Claire held Trevor's hand as he stepped down from the ledge. She sobbed and fell into his embrace, holding him tight, finally letting out a relieved breath against Trevor's neck at feeling him solid in her arms, real against her body. In that one single moment as she held him, it was as if the chaotic, restless world around her had stopped spinning, finally going still. Her hair was no longer dancing on the breeze. The cold wind that had been twisting and turning across that high balcony, faded to nothing, resting at last. She cried gratefully against Trevor's cheek.

"Thank you, Trevor. I love you. Stay with me..."

Trevor's voice still sounded fragile, as he held her even tighter still. "I love you too, Claire."

Behind them, the man in the suit and tie was still watching them carefully, still in the doorway of the observation deck. When he saw Trevor step safely down, his entire body had relaxed, and he felt the tension drop off of him as he saw the two of them there embracing each other. 

----------

Claire held Trevor against her, not noticing the man, caressing Trevor's cheeks, wiping away his tears. "It's going to be okay, Trevor. It's going to be okay..."

"Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Claire. I'm so sorry. How did it come to this? What happens now? Frechette's had it out for me for years, and now with all this, he's got what he needs now. I killed one of his patients. He's going to get me for this. He's going to nail me to the wall, just like he said..."

----------

Frechette fumed at the police detective standing beside him. "Of course he's dangerous! What's wrong with you? He just murdered someone I was treating! It's a consistent pattern to his behavior. On a prior occasion, Mr. Hale even physically assaulted one of his therapists. I suggested to the hospital for years that he should be committed and not out on the streets, but they just let him get away with more and more. And now it's too late. He should never been removed from the ward in the first place! I was Mrs. Simmons therapist for months. Faith told me during our sessions that Trevor would rescue her. 'Free' her. She knew it too. She predicted this in her own way. I just didn't see it, I didn't see it..."

"And now doctor, not knowing Claire Allen's whereabouts, you believe Mr. Hale and Mrs. Allen are together at this moment. Do you believe this is some kind of... of abduction?"

----------

Holding Claire, Trevor looked out at the city, tears in his eyes. "What are we going to do, Claire?"

"I don't know, Trevor. But we'll get past this. Together. Promise me..." Claire pulled back far enough to look into Trevor's eyes, as watery as hers. "Promise me, Trevor. We'll get past this together. Don't leave me again. Promise me."

Gently, Trevor wiped the tears from her cheek, looking lovingly into her eyes. "I promise, Claire. We'll get through this together..."

----------

Waiting for a response, the detective looked at Frechette impatiently. "Doctor, we're going to need some sort of definitive answer from you."

Frechette was still standing there, pausing, speechless at the question, reluctant to answer, not knowing what to say. His voice sounded uncertain. "Well..."

The detective noticed, stepping closer to him. "You have to be honest with me, Doctor. I need to know the situation. Is this some sort of kidnapping? You know the individuals involved. With an armed kidnapping, I can assign far more men to this. So that's why I'm asking you. Do you have any indications, any indications at all, that Mrs. Allen went willingly with Mr. Hale?"

Frechette tensed, feeling it all inside him, the anger welling up, the impossible circumstances that he found himself surrounded by. His fingers gripped the folder in his hands more tightly, knowing what was inside. It was Faith's file. And nestled inside were the pictures Faith had taken and left in his office. Pictures she had marked as 'Proof'. Intimate pictures of Claire and Trevor making love, explicitly answering any question of the kind or relationship Trevor and Claire had together, and confirming all that he had ever suspected.

"Doctor?" The police detective didn't understand his pause.

Swallowing, Frechette looked angrily down at Faith's body again, knowing what Trevor had done. Then... he decided. He reached into the file he carried and pulled out a single picture.

"She's a hostage. Here's a picture of Mr. Hale from his hospital file." He handed the picture to the detective who looked at it with curiosity. It was a picture of Trevor in hospital scrubs, unshaven, a depressed expression on his face. When he caught the detective's gaze again, Frechette continued, not flinching, voice now full of certainty. "I have no reason at all to believe Mrs. Allen went with Mr. Hale willingly."

"Right." The police detective let out a pleased breath, seemingly happy he got what he needed. "Hostage situation. Possibly with an armed suspect."

Frechette nodded. He knew how the game worked. By giving the detective those particular parameters, he virtually insured a more extensive search and quicker capture of Trevor. But still, there was worry on his brow, looking down at Faith's corpse, wondering if he had done the right thing.

The detective misunderstood Frechette's expression. "Don't worry, doctor. That's what I needed to hear. We'll get him."

Frechette was looking at Faith, remembering all the sessions he had spent with her, his inability to help her, her obsession with Trevor. All that time with her, all those sessions came flowing through his mind. She knew he would 'free' her. Somehow, she had known so many things. And then, in all those memories, something small itched its way forward within his skull. Then it occurred to him, and his face dropped in shock. He looked around the room, almost panicked, eyes widening with disbelief.

The detective was talking softly with his subordinate, standing nearby, until he paused in his conversation when he noticed Frechette's reaction.

"Is there a problem, doctor?"

Frechette blinked, still feeling stunned. His words were an anxious rush. "The date. What's today's date?"

The police detective looked at him, confused. "May 5th. Today is May 5th."

Frechette blinked again, struggling to remember. And then without warning he turned and almost ran out of Claire's bedroom, eyes wide, like he had seen a ghost. He pushed his way through the other detectives in the room, moving as fast as he could, bumping the photographer in mid click as the bulb flashed. He didn't notice the photographer's angry mutter at him, instead desperate to get back to his office, back to his notes on Faith. 

The police detective shook his head at Frechette's strange behavior as he heard the doctor leaving quickly through the hallway. Sometimes he really didn't understand these shrink types he had to consult with. He chuckled, exasperated, speaking softly to himself. "Almost as bad as the patients they treat...". The detective turned towards his subordinate, who had heard that last muttered remark and was giving the detective a quizzical look, waiting patiently beside him.

"Never mind." The detective spoke more loudly, now all business as he stepped away. "Put out the call..."

The second man grabbed a small receiver on a cord attached to his belt, lifting it to his mouth and pressing the button on it's side before he began to speak. "We need an APB out for a Trevor Hale, potentially armed and dangerous, and most likely holding a woman hostage named Claire Allen--"

----------

A woman's voice was speaking, transmitting over the air all across the city of Chicago as a multitude of police radios suddenly sprang to life. The female dispatch officer continued to speak. "All units, be on the lookout for one Trevor Hale, dark haired male, late thirties, with--"

Officers all across the city paused to take note of the message, sunlight glinting on a dozen windshields as the police cruisers turned, various units driving all across the city of Chicago as buildings slid calmly by in the morning sun. There was the sounds of engines revving as the woman's dispatch continued to be crackle on the police radio.

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On the roof of the observation deck far above the streets, the building official in the suit finally seemed to relax, seeing from his vantage point that the tense situation from a moment before had resolved itself. He still held a walkie talkie to the side of his head, speaking into it as he looked at the dark haired woman embracing the man who had been standing on the balcony stone railing near the edge before.

"Yeah, seems she talked him down. Looks like an all clear for now. No, there doesn't seem to be a further problem here..." Then still listening, the building official looked over at the two of them again as suddenly his brow furrowed at what he was hearing. "Their descriptions? Why do you ask..."

----------

Trevor and Claire were still holding each other, far above the bustle of the city streets, as slowly if felt like the two of them were able to breath again. As they stood there in the sunlight, their minds racing with all that had happened, they felt like the were enclosed in a bubble, just the two of them, no one else but the love and tenderness of the other's embrace. Like everything only existed in that one space, that one moment, not wanting to let go of each other. It didn't last.

"Claire... It's only a matter of time now. They'll be coming for me. You know they will."

"Trevor--"

"Frechette's going to use this. You know that. He's been itching for some excuse, and this is just the thing he needs to lock me up now. He said he was looking for something to nail me to the wall with and I just gave it to him. Oh gods... I really murdered her."

"Trevor, it wasn't murder, it was self defense. She was attacking me. She was willing to kill me, all to manipulate you! We can tell them. We can make them see. Make them understand that--"

"Do you really believe that, Claire? I can feel it! It's all falling apart, going crazy around us. Can't you feel it?"

Claire could feel him talking against her shoulder, and she kissed his cheek, trying to calm him as she held him tighter. "We'll get through this, Trevor. There's no way they even know where we are yet. What's happening is still--" 

Her words paused when suddenly she felt Trevor's body tense under her arms. He wasn't saying anything. She pulled back, looking into his face. "Trevor, what's wrong?" Claire wiped away his tears until she noticed that he had been looking at something over her shoulder, his gaze still locked there.

She turned looked over, both now finally noticing the building official watching them, dressed in a suit and tie as he stood in the shadows of the entrance, still speaking softly into the walkie talkie he held against his face.

----------

The building official saw that the two of them were looking directly at him now. Anxious, he turned slightly away, trying not to draw their attention further, trying not to alarm them. He listened nervously to the information that was being given to him over the walkie talkie, growing more disturbed by the moment. "Yes... like I said, woman dark hair, also late thirties... Yes... that matches the description for both of them... No, they're still up here. You should get up here right away..."

----------

The interior of another police cruiser was swimming in reflected color as the car tried to weave its way through the maze of downtown traffic, cars and trucks everywhere. Suddenly the car's dispatch sprang to life yet again.

_"Suspect sighted. Repeat, suspect sighted. All units move in. We have reports of Trevor Hale and a single female, observation deck of the building on the corner of--"_

The two officers inside the car, a man and a woman, started a familiar routine, hands moving through the interior. The woman gripped the steering wheel more tightly, engines revving louder as the car sped up, one hand flipping the sirens and lights on as beside her the man unbuttoned the black leather cover to his gun holster, reaching forward to pick up the mic and answer the dispatch as swiveling lights and the loud wail of sirens broke the calm everyday bustle of downtown, now sliding by faster all around them.

"This is unit 1068. Acknowledge, we're en route."

The dispatch radio continued to crackle as even more police units reported in, all converging on the location. Through the police cruiser's windows, buildings sped past, echoing the sirens back, their glass reflecting the turning swaths of the bright emergency lights into the dim, man made canyons of downtown. The cruiser's engine revved faster still.

----------

Trevor and Claire were still standing in the sunlight and open air, both watching the man in the shadows behind them, who turned away yet again as they held each other. The man was still in front of the entrance, talking softly, definitely not stopping. And then a sound filled both of them with a sudden chill. From the vast, deep, gulf of air beyond the stone railing to their side, they heard it, the distant wail of a siren somewhere far below in the city streets. The sound sliced through the cool morning, echoing softly off all the towering buildings rising around them. The two of them tensed, pulling back. 

Trevor looked into Claire's eyes, a sadness, an unstoppable finality in his gaze. "It's really over..."

"Trevor..." Claire's eyes darted around desperately, thinking, trying to find an answer. She looked at him again, feeling lost. "Trevor..."

The police sirens were getting louder, more harsh, like some predatory bird screaming out as it closed in. Another siren joined it in the distance, getting closer too. The birds were circling. And then, feeling it all drawing tighter around her, the man still watching them from the shadows of the entrance, she finally saw it. She finally knew what they had to do, the answer clear in her head.

"Trevor, run... Run with me. Out of Chicago. Away from all of this... Us. Together this time. Both of us..."

He paused, looking at her, sensing her resolve, and knowing in that moment all that she was asking, all that she was willing to give up, for him. As he looked into her eyes, he suddenly understood too. With everything crashing down all around them, there was nothing left to lose, except to keep what was most important. The gods, police, hospitals, all be damned. It was just him and her now. In a way, it had been that all along. He finally smiled slightly through his sadness, for a moment feeling like one resilient beam of daylight breaking past a churning storm as he spoke.

"Ok, Claire. We'll go... Together."

Claire breathed out, relieved but still worried. The sirens were getting even closer. "But first thing, we need to get off this roof. The police are coming." 

Trevor suddenly had a rebellious glint at his eye, as if he were unconcerned, willing to take on any challenge, even the gods if need be. His mind worked as he stood in front of Claire, before looking over at the building official watching them, Trevor gazing intently at him.

"Don't worry, Claire. I've snuck up here loads of times after hours when everything was closed. That door isn't the only way out of here." Trevor's voice suddenly took a low, gravely, jedi master voice, for a moment the same playful Trevor he always was. "No, there is another..."

----------

The building official was almost panicked. He was certain the potentially armed man was staring him down now, aware he was there. He turned away in his shadowed place in front of the building door, feeling the gazes of the two of them on his tense shoulders, knowing they were still staring at him. He tried to behave nonchalantly, but he couldn't hide the shaky, frantic tone of his voice as he spoke into the walkie talkie. "No, they're still here! I can see them. They can see me. And even I can hear the sirens already! They know something's up, so get up here quick! I'm all alone up here! Unarmed! I knew I should have been a janitor instead! No... no I'm still blocking the exit. There's no other way down. But I--"

The man turned around again to look back at the two of them, but he suddenly blinked, stopping his words. The observation deck before him was completely empty. No one was in sight at all. The man stepped forward in shock, the radio still making obscure noises in his raised hand, someone still talked through it. He had only looked away for a second. It was like they had disappeared into thin air. The voice on the radio continued, asking what was going on, but the man didn't listen. He stepped out into the sunlight of the enclosed observation deck, and began to turn slowly in place. A fresh breeze blew over that high, isolated place, flapping the hem of his open jacket, but there was no one there. The man stood there, stunned and completely alone.

"Oh crap..." 

----------

Frechette was frantic

He was in his office, almost out of control as he shoved file after file onto his desk, some of the folders slipping to spill their contents onto his usually well kept, carpet floor. An expensive looking desk lamp was knocked haphazardly off, but he didn't even blink, his mind racing with his search, twisting with what he was hunting for in his files. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. May 5th. There had to be some mistake.

He finally found them, the specific files he was searching for. Archived session notes labeled Mary Simmons. Frechette couldn't help it, his fingers were shaking. With an angry sweep of his arm, he shoved everything that was currently on his desk away, letting it crash loudly onto the floor, not caring about the noise. His breathing was quick and anxious, heartbeat way to fast... Hmm... He strongly suspected that some form of delirium had taken him. But he didn't pause long enough to fully self analyze, mind racing, more and more so out of control as he quickly spread the session notes out before him, notes he had never entered into his computer files except in a generalized form.

"No... No, it can't be true. It just can't be..."

Holding an expensive looking pen in his right hand, Frechette's fingers were darting over his writings, checking them all as quickly as possible, handwritten notes from months and months of sessions with Faith. She had told him so many things. So many 'prophecies' that she would mention offhand, out of the blue and usually completely out of context, like they were supposed to be familiar to everyone. Fragments of things, things he knew were in the notes, things that Faith had said which now tickled in the back of his skull, turning his world upside down.

He found the file, his hands a blur as he leafed through the pages paper clipped underneath. It was familiar. This was it, what was gnawing at his memory. His fingers rapidly traced down, page after page, tossing the read pages aside like trash, no longer caring about how organized they were. His right hand fingers still held the expensive pen nestled between them, but then, his eyes locked onto something, and he dropped it numbly. 

Frechette had never known what to do about Faith's predictions. For a time he had followed up on her predictions, checking them out. They had all come true. He had even made a call to one place in advance, asked them to keep an eye out there for something she had said, in case that particular thing happened in the future, just like Faith had so confidently predicted. But he had given up on all that some time ago, realizing how foolish it all really was. He was a man of science, not of mystics. But now, all those small, meaningless, throw away comments he had recorded were appearing so clear in his notes. Deep down, he had never really believed. Until now. Slowly, he picked up the notes from one session, reading them.

"Trevor... He's going to release me from all this... rescue me..." His voice was soft, stunned. "He needs to believe again..." Frechette's eyes moved down the page, still whispering to himself. "I'll give you proof, but you will not use it. He'll free me on the fifth day of May, the day Trevor starts down the path which leads to... Trevor Claire, Claire Trevor... together they'll fall..." Frechette stepped slowly back, remembering. She had predicted it all. Told him everything that had happened so far, all months ago. It hadn't made any sense at the time, just fragments here and there, the ramblings of some insane individual. But now, with all that had happened, it was coming true, exactly as she had seen it. How could she have known? Frechette blinked, feeling so very completely lost, for the first time in his professional life.

"What the hell's going on here?"

TO BE CONTINUED ON PAGE 4 


	4. Falling Home pg 4

PREVIOUS PAGE 

There was an incessant knocking at Jaclyn's door, as sleepy eyed, she wandered through her apartment, trying to stay in motion long enough to unsuccessfully navigate without bumping against every wall. 

"Coming! I'm coming already." she called out, passing through shafts of light from a sun she hadn't seen rise in ages. Finally she got to her door, trying not to fall over as she opened it.

"Jaclyn. No time to explain. We need your car." Claire said quickly.

"Claire, Trevor..." She blinked at the two of them, surprised. "What's going on?"

----- 

A car trunk was thrown open, filling it with late morning light. Bag after bag of clothing was thrown in immediately, Trevor moving frantically behind. Behind her, Claire was watching the street nervously, wrapped up tightly under a shawl. There was the footsteps of someone running, and Jaclyn came up to them, out of breath.

"This is all the money I had in my ATM account." She looked at the two of them. "Are you sure about this?"

"Umm..." Trevor looked uncertainly at Claire, who looked back.

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Jaclyn handed them the money. She almost fell over but straightened herself with effort.

Claire noticed, looking at her. "Jaclyn... are you... drunk?"

"Prahhbably. Mmm-Hmm. Yeah..."

Trevor smiled. "Jackie ohh! Intoxicated! What have you been drinking? Come on, give me the lowdown."

"Went all out, Trevor. The really hard stuff. Wine coolers."

Amused, he shook his head. "You are so cute..."

Claire looked at her gratefully. "Thank you, Jaclyn. I know this thing with you and Champ is hard, but it'll work out in the end. I wish we could be here for you--"

"It's okay, Claire. As long as you and Trevor are safe." She watched Trevor toss in a few more supplies. "Gee, Trevor. I always wondered if you wanted to get into my trunk, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Hey, me neither, Jackie. But there's no Jell-O anymore and I'm all out of whipped cream." Trevor started arranging the pillows on the edges and floor of the trunk, before starting to climb in. On the sidewalk behind them, a pedestrian was walking by, giving him a strange look. Trevor paused halfway in, staring at the man meaningfully for a moment, before waving his fingers slowly at him.

"These aren't the droids you're looking for..."

The man continued to walk with a frown, staring at Trevor the entire way. As Trevor finished crawling in, turning on a flashlight and looking around inside. Claire grabbed the edge of the trunk, about to close it. "You know that wavy thing never works, Trevor."

"I've missed your sparkling pessimism, Claire. Ooh. There really is room in here. I know we're still on the lamb, fleeing and desperate and all, but if you'd like a little bit more of the glory that is the god of love, maybe there's time to crawl in here for a quick--"

Claire closed the trunk on him, cutting him off. Still wrapped tightly in a shawl and dark shades, she turned to Jaclyn on the sidewalk beside her. "So... how do I look?"

Jaclyn tried to be tactful. "Glaringly inconspicuous?" 

----- 

Claire dropped down behind the steering wheel, inserting the keys inside the ignition. "We'll phone you once we're out of Chicago, to tell you where we're leaving the car, so you can pick it up, ok? And thanks Jaclyn."

Standing by the window, Jaclyn looked at her, sad to see her go. "So you're really doing this, huh?"

"Yeah... Yeah we really are. As long as I'm with him. That's all that matters."

"I understand."

Jaclyn couldn't help herself. Her eyes misted, and she reached into the car and wrapped her arms around Claire. "I love you, Claire."

Claire held her gratefully. "I love you too, Jaclyn." When Jaclyn pulled back, Claire laughed softly. "I'm just glad I'm wearing these shades so you don't have to see me cry."

"It's okay to cry. I'll miss you. You'd better go. Who knows how soon the police might look for you here." 

"Yeah."

Claire reached over, turning on the car, engine coming to life, when she paused, seeing the tattered surface of the dashboard on Jaclyn's car. It was old, worn. Jaclyn had made carvings in it. One had read Jaclyn and Trevor 4 ever. Until it seems Jaclyn had crossed out Trevor's name and replaced it with Champ's name. And then, that had been crossed out too, and been replaced by a large etching beside it, which read DIE, CHEATER, DIE!

Claire blinked up at Jaclyn without a word.

Jaclyn smiled sweetly. "I may still have issues..."

----- 

Frechette seemed frozen in place.

He felt it, felt it happening all around him, felt as if he were caught in some sort of enigmatic web of things he didn't understand. He was back at his home, still shaken from what he had read in his office, and from seeing Faith's dead body that morning. It was a lot to take in. And now, he didn't know what to think, sitting on his bland couch, looking over at the table by the wall. He had brought Faith's file back with him, and it was sitting there on the table, waiting. A chill passed through him, looking over at it. The woman was dead, but there she was, still whispering to him in those writings, like a phantom in his ear. Things just weren't supposed to be this way, unexplainable. He wouldn't let them be.

Frechette scowled, purposely ignoring the file, deciding yet again that it was ridiculous. He turned on his dark, metallic looking television, flipping through channels, when suddenly a news report caught his eye.

A woman was speaking, doing a newscast report, the words SPECIAL BULLETIN bracketing her underneath.

_"And to repeat, the police have put out a area warning for a mental patient named Trevor Hale, who may be armed and dangerous, and may be holding a hostage named Dr. Claire Allen. Mr. Hale is suspected in the murder of another mental patient, one Mary Simmons, who was found murdered this morning at around--"_

Watching the report, Frechette blinked. Suddenly he looked nervous, remembering what he had told the investigating detective, and now seeing what the results of it were. He knew Claire had gone willingly, Faith had made sure of that. But he had lied to the detective anyway. And now, seeing the news flash on his screen, the lie was starting to gnaw at him.

He looked sadly at the screen, whispering softly to himself. "Ian, what have you done..."

He pushed it aside, trying to convince himself that he had done the right thing. Trevor had gone too far this time, and he had to be found. Faith had predicted all of this. She had known so many things. He had to admit that, despite the implications. What else did she know? What else had she said that might help him find Trevor and bring him into custody? That made him pause, looking back at the silent file, waiting on his table. Was he really going to allow himself to be ruled by his own fear?

With a sigh, he stood, walking over to the file on the table. He opened it up, and started reading, as the news report droned on behind him. Yes. He would be able to use this. He could see some of the contacts Trevor had made, people who's lives he had affected since his stay in Chicago. Faith had known of that too it seems, though he had always believed it was merely her own form of hero worship or overactive imagination. But now for the first time in a long time, he opened his mind to other possibilities, trying to see what Faith had to say when he had refused to listen.

"Ok... talk to me, Faith. Show me the way..."

Frechette became engrossed, walking away, ignoring the television behind him as it droned on.

_"And to repeat, authorities have issued a public warning to be on the lookout for --"_

----- 

The interior of the convenience store was small and crowded, music playing from a compact radio behind the counter as Claire stepped inside. A small, hanging bell rang over the door as she walked further in, looking cautiously around. She glanced behind her, hoping Trevor was okay in the trunk of Jaclyn's small car. Wearing her shades, Claire tired her best to remain inconspicuous, feeling her skin tingling as if everyone in the world was watching her, her heart beating with adrenaline. But the bored looking clerk behind the counter wasn't even looking in her direction. Then Claire saw it, the ATM machine she was searching for, tucked away in the corner. She walked over to stand in front of it, taking a deep breath, pausing for a moment to calm down.

Her credit card flashed in her hand. She quickly slid it into the machine, typing in her pass code as she went through the familiar steps. Her and Trevor both needed more money. She knew it was a risk, but by the time someone found out, the two of them would hopefully be very far away. It would probably go unnoticed after all, it wasn't as if everyone knew who her and Trevor were, even--

Claire froze when her gaze moved to the small television playing silently on the convenience store counter beside her. Her eyes couldn't believe what they saw, seeing a photo of Trevor flash across the small screen, an old police mug shot, when had first been arrested for drunk and disorderly right before she had met him. Quietly she reached over, turning up the volume so only she could hear.

_"The abduction of therapist and renowned relationship columnist Dr. Claire Allen from her home happened sometime early this morning. It is also believed the suspected kidnapper, Trevor Hale, murdered a fellow mental patient named Mary Simmons who was also somehow involved. Chicago police are asking for help in locating this man. Authorities tell us that he should be considered armed and mentally unstable--"_

Claire couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Kidnapping? There wasn't any kind of--" She looked around, surprised she had said that so loudly. Things were more serious than she thought. Claire quickly turned the volume down on the tv again. The picture changed from one of Trevor to one of her, and she tensed. The clerk was still ignoring her, reading employment want ads from the newspaper. No one else was in the convenience store. She looked at the ATM. It already had her card inside. It was too late for that. There would already be a record. Things seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Then Claire took a deep, resolved breath and took charge, her mind racing. She took out the maximum amount of money from her account, removing the cash and the money from the ATM. She placed her credit card on the shelf beside the machine, hoping it would be stolen from there, trying to throw the authorities off her track. She had almost maxed it out anyway.

Carefully, she used her knuckle to turn off the small television. The clerk didn't seem to care. Claire moved through the store, grabbing some cold colas and snack cakes Trevor had asked for, wondering if any security cameras could see her. Maybe then they would see that she wasn't a hostage. Regardless, they wouldn't be near Chicago for long. She walked boldly over to the clerk, as if nothing was wrong at all.

"Just this and a full tank of gas..." she said simply.

----- 

In his apartment, Champ was watching the television in a daze, Allison sitting beside him. They both looked at each other, watching the tv screen flash Trevor's picture again, both having heard the things they were saying about him.

Champ tried to clear his head. "There has to be some kinda mistake..." 

Allison looked at him, and he could see she felt the same thing. Trevor would never do something like that. She sounded bewildered. "Champ, this is crazy. It can't be true."

He looked into space, staring at nothing. Then he realized inside what he had to do. "It isn't true... I've got to find out what's happened. I got to talk to Jaclyn, see what we can do..."

----- 

Nick rose off his couch, discarded beer cans falling loudly to the floor, anger flashing in his eyes as he faced the television. "Bastards... they can't get away with doing this to Trevor!"

----- 

Tina looked over at the man on the lying naked in the bed beside her, still surprised to see him there, never having expected it. But not as surprised as they both were watching what was on television. "We've got to find a way to help them..." she said

Alone with her, Lawrence tried to cover his naked body under the sheets, the happiness of last night replaced with a new urgency. "We will..."

----- 

Frechette blinked as he read, fascinated. It was like a whole life was unfolding before him through Faith's words. Trevor's life. Cataloged, recorded, defined, spoken of with... love . Slowly he placed sheet after sheet down onto the table, each paper one more facet, one more story. His hands moved in a slow, gentle dance, the room slowly spinning. It was all so clear, so simple and pure. The spread of paper grew larger, like a beautiful painting of words and notes, scribbled from the rantings of a madwoman. He blinked again, surprised at his own reaction. Faith was crazy. But in some strange way, seeing all his records, she had loved Trevor. And it was like she was giving Frechette new insight into Trevor's life, her words painting those sheets, like a canvas. He wondered how much of it was true, thinking about Trevor, and all the things Faith claimed he had done, things he never known. How ironic to learn more about Trevor from a crazy woman, than he had ever learned in person. He paused. Could he really be- 

Suddenly he shoved the papers aside, anger blossoming in his eyes. No. He knew what was real. This record was only a guidepost. A map, to finding out who would lead him to the mental patient who had killed Faith. To putting him where he belonged. That was all that mattered.

Frechette calmly picked up the papers from the floor, reorganizing them. It was his map. His key. And inside he knew exactly where that map started. Frechette knew what he had to do.  
----- 

There was a knock at her door. 

After clicking the lock, Jaclyn's face froze the instant she swung the door open and looked up... and up... and into the dark face of Dr. Ian Frechette, glowering at her from the hallway outside her small apartment. He simply stood there, silent, glaring at her, waiting. A sudden panic flowed coldly across Jaclyn's shoulders at the sight of him, words fumbling out of her mouth. 

"I don't know anything!" she said quickly. 

Frechette smirked at her reaction. Without asking, he stepped confidently forward, entering her apartment. Jaclyn scurried out of his way with a look of surprise. she wondered if he would have simply walked over her if she hadn't stepped aside. Jaclyn gave him an angry look but didn't say anything, still flustered that he was there. 

The grim faced Dr. Frechette looked around the small space, obviously less than impressed with the interior of her small apartment. "Oh come now..." His voice was low, full of menace. "We both knew I would end up here, eventually. With everything that has happened to our illustrious Dr. Allen. Ohh... By the way." Turning around, he smiled at her, obviously not asking a question. "May I come in?"

----- 

"Claire, hurry up. We have to move..." 

"Just a second, Trevor. I have to make a call." 

Claire stepped up to small glass phone booth. The two of them were outside in the late afternoon sunlight. There was a highway behind them, but they were most definitely in the middle of nowhere, no houses, just trees, dried grass, and empty fields. Bugs floated in the rays of the sun, dancing around them. Claire opened the door to the old phone booth and stepped in, it's windows cracked in places and covered in a layer of dust made visible in the golden afternoon light. She tried to ignore the vague urine smell coming from the floor. Outside, Trevor kept a look-out, eating a small snack cake, watching the highway as she picked up the receiver and tried to make a call, Jaclyn's car visible behind her as she dialed. 

"Trevor, I just want to let Jaclyn know where to pick up her car, before we go..." 

She held the phone to her ear as the call went through. Behind her, Trevor suddenly turned away from the highway as a car suddenly drove past.

----- 

Frechette was seated across from Jaclyn, staring at her as if he were conducting an interrogation, which in his mind, he was. The glass of soda she had offered him and placed on the table between them, remained there ignored, Frechette treating it like it didn't exist. He waited for several moments, judging her. Jaclyn squirmed slightly in her seat. 

"Let's not dance around what we both already know, shall we? You and Claire are friends. You and Trevor are friends. You _KNOW_ why I am here. Because you know where they've gone. You would be the first person the two of them would come to for help. I'm not stupid enough to believe otherwise--"

"Oh don't worry about that. With a little work, someday you will be," she tried to sound encouraging. 

Frechette blinked, confused. He ignored that and continued. "Either you helped them to leave... or you know where they've gone. So tell me... Where is Claire Allen?" 

"I have no idea what you are talking about. I haven't seen them." 

"Where's your car?" 

"I don't have one." 

"That... is a lie." 

"Hey! I resent that! I do have my own life you know. I'm not just sitting around here waiting at Claire's beck and--" 

Suddenly the phone rang. 

Jaclyn's eyes widened for a moment, finishing her sentence, "--call." 

Frechette turned his head, looking over at the ringing phone. Jaclyn made no move to answer it, sitting anxiously on her couch. She forced a strained smile onto her face when his gaze turned back to her, the phone still ringing. After a few tense moments, he raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to answer it?" 

Growing more nervous by the second, Jaclyn tried to shrug it off, giving him a small laugh. "Umm, probably just a wrong number.."

------ 

Standing in the phone booth, Claire slammed the phone receiver back down. Her brow furrowed in thought. She didn't want to leave Jaclyn's car there without telling her where to get it. Not after all that Jaclyn had done for them. But she could feel how exposed they were out in the afternoon sunlight, and she could feel time ticking away as she stood there in the open, the road just behind. 

Trevor looked at her through the glass. "Umm, Claire? there's kinda this whole running from the law thing we're in the middle of? But no biggie... Take your time." 

Trevor started shoving his wrists together in various positions all around his body, as if searching. 

"Trevor, what are you doing?" 

"Just trying to see the best way to get the handcuffs placed on me when I get hauled off." 

"The police aren't coming, Trevor." 

"Who said anything about police?" 

Claire ignored him concerned as she looked at pay phone again. Finally she began dialing.

"I'll give one more try..." 

----- 

In Jaclyn's apartment, the phone rang again, making her twitch suddenly at the unexpected noise as she and Frechette sat there. 

Jaclyn froze. "Another wrong number..." 

His eyes were steel, not buying it. 

"Answer it, please." 

She looked at him. It wasn't a suggestion. 

"Now." He said coldly. 

Jaclyn didn't move as the ringing continued. Then slowly she rose, walking over and picking up the phone, trying not to let her fingers shake. 

"H-Hi... person I've never spoken to before. How can I help you?" 

-----

Still standing in the phone booth, Claire's adrenaline tinged words were rushed, nervous. "Hey, Jaclyn. We're okay. We've just--" She was suddenly cut off by Jaclyn's voice interrupting loudly on the other end.

_"Right! That sounds like a great offer!"_

----- 

Holding the phone against her ear as she stood in her apartment, Jaclyn hadn't waited for Claire to finish. She could feel that she was probably speaking far too energetically, probably because she was trying her best to hide the fact that her stomach was in knots. Even as she talked on the phone, her eyes were on Frechette, who still stared at her. The small, enclosed space of her apartment seemed tighter with him in such close proximity. Her body felt strained as well, and she tried her best not to keep her limbs rigid. But somehow she sensed she wasn't doing a very good job. Still watching him, Jaclyn forced what she was sure was an unconvincing smile onto her face as she continued.

"Absolutely. But I bet the guy sitting here with me would _**have me committed**_ if I turned down an offer like that!"

----- 

In the phone booth, Claire blinked, not really following Jaclyn's meaning. Still a little breathless from her and Trevor being stationary and out in the open, she looked around, continuing what she had been saying. "Are you feeling all right, Jaclyn? Trevor and I are fine for the moment. We got out of Chicago. I was calling to tell you that you can pick up your car on Maple road, just outside the city, mile 5 south--"

----- 

Jaclyn interrupted again. 

"Terrific! But I don't have or even know what my erectile dysfunction is! Guess I'll need to find a _**DOCTOR**_ to tell me. Besides, I'm not sure some _**PILL GUY**_ could help me. I mean, not that _**I HAVE ONE HERE.**_ And I definitely don't have any sort of _**TOTAL PENIS**_ inside my apartment. Or sitting on my couch." Jaclyn was trying wildly to find a way to tip off Claire that Frechette was there with her.

"_Jaclyn, what--_" Over the phone, Claire's voice sounded really confused.

Listening, Jaclyn held the phone against her ear.

But behind he on the couch, Frechette had heard enough.

Exhaling angrily, he stood up and walked over to where Jaclyn was standing.

"That's her, isn't it?"

Jaclyn was blank as he approached. "No..."

"Give me the phone."

"Umm, no."

"Give it to me. Now."

He reached over and placed his hand protectively over the phone cradle, so that she couldn't hang up. His free hand tried to grab the phone from Jaclyn, and a struggle between them ensued.

She panicked, straining and twisting with Frechette, the phone bobbing in both their hands between them. She had to quickly send Claire some coded message, a warning that Frechette was there. Trying to get the phone closer to her face and past his strong grip, she said the first thing that popped into her head, yelling it towards the phone.

**_ "There's no jello anymore, and I'm all out of whipped cream!" _**

------ 

Bewildered as she stood in the phone booth, Claire pulled her head back at that inexplicably yelled statement. She was now thoroughly confused.

"Jaclyn? Hello?"

For several moments, there was nothing but silence coming through the receiver nestled against her ear. The interior of the phone booth remained quiet. Rich sunlight angled down onto her face as her brow furrowed, worried about what was happening. Trevor was outside keeping watch, munching on yet another of those cheap, sugary, fatty, snack cakes he liked so much, his eyes still constantly scanning everywhere. But as she waited, there was still silence on the other end of the phone line.

"Jaclyn, are you there?"

She was about to give up and hang up the phone when suddenly a male voice came on the line.

_"Dr. Allen... Our own personal Florence Nightingale..."_

Claire went cold. "Dr. Frechette..."

Hearing her say that, Trevor whirled his head around and locked his gaze on hers through the dust covered glass of the phone booth, fear in his eyes.

Claire looked back at him, in shock. How could he be at Jaclyn's already so quickly? Even the same day they had left, he was already there. It was just like before, when Frechette had tried to catch her and Trevor together, and he had seemed to know their every move. It was like he was everywhere, somehow guided, only one step behind, as he hunted them.

Frechette's soft, smug voice continued on the phone.

"_It's good to hear from you, Claire... How's the life of a kidnapping victim?_" 

----- 

Pleased, Frechette smiled as he stood in Jaclyn's apartment, happy to have found them. In the room behind him, Jaclyn fumed and raged silently at his arrogance, finally losing it. Furious, she reached over and plucked up a small, delicate little lamp nearby, lifting over her head in a tightly gripped fist without a sound. Frechette was totally unaware, not facing her as she stepped forward to smash it into the back of his skull. 

Suddenly there was a thud as Jaclyn fell to the floor, landing hard on her backside when the lamp's electrical cord, which was still plugged into the wall, had yanked her downwards in mid swing. Hearing her, Frechette turned and glowered at her. 

She looked at him innocently. "Sorry... I slipped." 

Turning away from her again, he seemed to not really care, still listening to Claire. Jaclyn picked the lamp beside her off of the floor as she stood up, considering whether to unplug it and try again. But she paused, thinking better of it, instead placing the delicate lamp back down on the end table. No. It wasn't heavy enough. She needed something bigger. Without saying anything, she started looking around her living room, turning in place, searching. Frechette was still ignoring her.

----- 

In the phone booth, Claire was fuming too, her momentary fear dissipating quickly away at the thought of Frechette hounding them. Anger flashed across her features. "You know very well that I haven't been kidnapped, Dr. Frechette. It was Faith that broke into my home. Faith, who tried to kill me, and it was Trevor that had to stop her! It was her gun for god's sake! Trevor was only trying to protect me!"

She could hear him scoff even through the phone. "Or maybe... you're the one who's trying to protect him."

Claire grew angrier. It was like he wasn't hearing her at all. "I've already seen the news bulletins. KIDNAPPING! That could only have come from you! So... You certainly have been busy, haven't you? Now you have the police doing your dirty work. I must say... nicely done, Ian. Good to see nothing is beneath you it seems..."

A fist was banging on the glass. She ignored Trevor, who was knocking on the window between them, his voice sounding desperate. "Claire! Claire, hang up!"

When she heard Frechette speak again, strangely enough, his voice sounded stung, as if she had definitely hit a nerve. "_I told the police that, yes. I only told them the truth, Claire!_"

Turning bitterly in the phone booth, she shook her head. "And you call Trevor delusional..."

"_Mr. Hale is delusional. And now... his actions have confirmed that._"

She loathed his voice in her ear. "What other reason would Trevor shoot someone who supposedly worshipped him as a god?"

"_Because she revealed him as a man. Revealed him to be the simple, misguided mortal he is._"

Her voice seethed. "Whatever Trevor is... he'll never be as vindictive and manipulative as that abduction story you conjured up. It's not too late. You can still tell everyone the truth, Ian. Stop this house of cards before it collapses. Because right now, the police might immediately shoot Trevor without a second thought! You realize that if they kill him, you'll never be able to get your hooks into him, don't you?" 

"_You think that's what I want? I only want to help him._"  
"Funny way of showing it. Can't say I'm impressed with your whole 'shoot on sight' therapeutic approach."

"_What's happened is Trevor's responsibility, not mine._"

"Still insisting that Trevor's holding me against my will? Who is it that you're really trying to convince? Trying to ease your conscience? If you even have one. We both know Trevor hasn't kidnapped me!"

To Claire's ear, his voice sounded much angrier, going on the defensive at her words. 

"_Then why did you run?_"

Claire couldn't take it anymore. "BECAUSE OF YOU!"

----- 

Not expecting that, Frechette didn't reply as he stood in Jaclyn's apartment. Pausing for a moment, thinking, his words grew softer. "Me?" 

Unseen in the small room behind him, Jaclyn was already picking up a heavier object, judging its weight and grip in the palms of her hands, looking up again at the back of Frechette's head. She shrugged and put it aside, still searching for something heavier.

Frechette tried his best to harden his resolve, voice growing cold again. "You can't lie for him anymore, Claire. Or help him lie to himself."

----- 

Claire felt exasperated in the phone booth.

"The most ironic thing, is that you don't even see the irony of you saying that. This is wrong, Ian! You know it's wrong because you know Trevor didn't kidnap me! But you never change. You're always the same! One justification or another, you've always had it in for Trevor. Because maybe it's him revealing you to be the simple, misguided mortal you are. DAMNAT QUOD INTELLIGENT! 'They condemn what they don't understand'."

----- 

For a long silent moment where he was, Frechette seemed to doubt. He felt himself wavering, not proud of what he had done. But he thought of Faith that morning, lying there dead in a dried pool of her own blood, and the doubt was pushed back and buried deep.

"Trevor refuses to acknowledge what any rational person should. That he ISN'T Cupid. Usurping my authority, undermining all attempts to help him. That doesn't give him a free pass at murder. And whether you accept it or not, Trevor _**is**_ a murderer now. We'll see how much I understand... I will find him, Claire. And you. Both of you. No matter how long it takes. Even if I have to corner and question every person you know. Hunt and harass every person Trevor's ever met. I'll delve into every record, reveal every conversation, until Mr. Hale is in custody of the state, where he belongs. And with the help of Faith's remarkably detailed insights, you know I can. So don't doubt it. You can't run forever..."

----- 

In the phone booth, Claire snapped angrily back at him.

"We'll see..."

She slammed the phone receiver furiously down, ending the call. The interior of the phone booth was quiet, as she stood there silent for several seconds, anger building.

"Damn it!" She pounded helpless against the booth's glass with her fists, leaving them sore from the multiple impacts. Claire was scared, frustrated, and standing with Trevor there, still out in the open, she definitely felt hunted.

Outside, Trevor slowly opened the glass door of the phone booth, concern in his eyes as he looked at her, waiting for her to catch her breath. He had been listening intently the whole time she had been on the phone with Frechette. And now, she could see it in his eyes. he felt that sense of helplessness too.

"They think you're a murderer, Trevor."

"Claire... Claire we have to keep moving... We gotta go..."

For several long seconds, she stared at him. Then without replying, a grateful smile slowly appeared on her face. She wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye, her own resolve returning. No matter what, she was happy to be with him. It was where she wanted to be.

"Yeah... Let's go, Trevor."

Claire stepped out of the phone booth into the warm rays of the late, golden afternoon. Trevor smiled back at her, and reaching out slowly, he gently took her hand in his, not letting go, giving it a grateful squeeze.

Then together, the two of them started walking away from the road behind them where Jaclyn's car was parked. They moved into a wide swath of tall corn stalks, stretching far into the distance before them, growing smaller. And in the barely perceptible, misty distance, there was a building, a small local operator bus station, tiny in the dim haze. That was what they were walking towards. As they disappeared into the tall stalks, they didn't look back.

------ 

After Claire ended the call, Frechette couldn't explain his reaction. Silently, he hung up the phone as he stood in Jaclyn's apartment. He was surprised by some of the things that Claire had told him. That she and Trevor had run because they didn't trust what he would do, that they had run out of fear of him trying to take advantage of the situation. Those thoughts weighed on him. Considering what he had done, they had had every reason to feel that way. he still didn't know for sure if he had done the right thing, telling the police what he had. But it was too late to turn back now. And he would have help finding them. All those inexplicable things Faith had written. All her certainty in what Trevor was. The conviction that he really was Cu--.

Sensing movement behind him, he turned around quickly. Jaclyn was standing there, fairly close to him. For some reason, her steps were stutterred, arms above her head. His gaze shifted up... to the heavy object Jaclyn was struggling intently to keep aloft, her eyes opening wide when she saw that he was looking at her.

Jaclyn lowered the object with some difficulty, giving him what he was sure was intended to be a disarming smile. "Ummm... Sorry. Just trying to... redecorate a little..."

Frechette barely acknowledged her, still lost in his own thoughts. Finally he looked at her again, his voice more somber than before.

"It doesn't seem that you will be able to help me. Or have the inclination if by some miracle, your capacity suddenly gave you the ability. So... I know someone who will."

He started gathering his things, his mind already racing through Faith's notes, thinking of possible accomplices. Then he paused, glaring at Jaclyn again.

"About your car. It isn't here. I suppose you'll claim they stole it? That you didn't help them escape Chicago?"

Obviously no longer caring what he really thought, Jaclyn flashed him the sweetest smile. "You mean my car's missing?" 

Frechette shook his head, having expected nothing less. He decided to leave it at that, not speaking another word. Jaclyn still seemed to be re-arranging trinkets in the room at the edge of his sight, but he didn't care. Walking across her living room, he opened the front door. But then, he paused. It was all still inside him, something he just couldn't get out of his head. Frechette looked over at her, hands crossed behind her back as she faced him coldly. And for the first time, there was almost sympathy in his eyes.

"All these people... always willing to help Trevor." Frechette swallowed, as if it were hard for him to say. "You... you really believe he's Cupid, don't you?"

Jaclyn blinked, surprised by that question. Slowly the anger left her expression. When she spoke, it was soft as well. "Yes... yes I do."

Considering that, Frechette looked away. And then he realized, he didn't know what he was feeling. Without another word he opened her front door. But behind him, Jaclyn stopped him with a kind voice.

"Doctor... you look a little faint..."

"Wha--"

Suddenly the world went black as he was about to turn, a searing pain exploding in the back of his head as he felt himself fall, losing consciousness.

A moment later, Jaclyn's apartment door slammed shut as he lay unconscious in the hallway.

Coming to, Frechette slowly rose from the hallway floor, dazed, blinking as he lifted himself with one hand. Disoriented, he looked around, wondering what had happened, how he had gotten there. There was a bump on the back of his head. He had been leaving Jaclyn's apartment, something about her mentioning he looked faint. Was that bump he felt from a fall? No one was there, and strangely enough, he couldn't even remember fainting at all.

----- 

The quiet, yet still creaking bus was shaking under his feet.

Trevor couldn't sleep, looking forlornly out the window and into the night. He watched the small glowing points of street lights and homes, slowly slipping past in a field of black, somehow reminding him of a rain of falling stars, streaming sadly past his window. Beside him, Claire was asleep in her seat, her hand still clasped in his. Everyone else in the passenger compartment seemed to be sleeping too. The bus was dark, except for blue floor lights glowing dimly near the aisle.

He had tried to sleep, but the bus's vibrations as it bounced roughly down the road had kept him awake. But he knew it was more than that, his mind filled with various worries and fears. As he looked around the bus's dark interior, he saw it was jam packed with passengers, not an empty seat. They really packed them in on these cross country buses. So many strangers, so many varied faces. Just like all the faces Trevor remembered, people he had hooked up. Total strangers in the dark that he had bumped together, all in the name of true love. but that was before, when he was certain in his abilities. Now, that was lost, and all he wanted was to become just another face in the crowd. But deep inside, he knew. He wasn't.

In the seat beside him, Claire slowly came out of her sleep, as if sensing his discomfort. She sat up straighter, pushing a few strands dark hair from her face, looking over ta him.

"Trevor? What is it?"

Still wrapped in his dark mood, Trevor smiled weakly at her. "I don't know, Claire. I just feel... like there's some doom hanging over my head. Some final test in front of me. Unavoidable. Like I'm caught in a rushing river, being swept downstream towards the drop ahead. Always slipping underwater... no control over stopping it. I feel like I'm sinking. Like I have a choice between drowning... or falling."

She gave him a worried look, before silently laying her head on his shoulder in the dark. After a few moments when she spoke, her voice was soft, sympathetic. "I know. Me too, sometimes. It's okay that things feel that way right now. But we'll... we'll let things slow down. Cool off. See what happens next. I know a place we can go in the morning. We'll get a taxi when we get off and head there. They should be able to help us stay off the radar for a few days. And eventually you'll realize that you still have control. But for now..." she lifted her head, looking at him. "Do you know where you want to go?"

His eyes filled with sadness, Trevor looked back out the dark window. "Not really... not anymore."

Claire paused, waiting in the silence that followed. "Trevor... Tell me. What are you feeling?"

Memories flashed through his head, almost smiling. "You sound like my shrink. Have you seen her? Very hot. Very qualified. And by qualified I mean that she's got the cutest--"

Claire did smile when she interrupted, teasing him. "Well, considering your progress, If I really were just your shrink Trevor, I would have torn up my Ph.D. in frustration years ago."

"Well in a way, you sort of did, considering what's going on..."

Claire could see he was still holding something back. Something more was bothering him. "Please, Trevor. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong?"

"Just thinking, Claire. About me. About all the things I've done--"

"Trevor, if this is about Faith again--"

"No that's still there. That isn't going away anytime soon. No I was thinking about everyone else, Claire. About me, who I am, what I did or did not accomplish..."

----- 

As Trevor spoke, somewhere there was a dim apartment hallway, where a shadow stopped patiently before a door, waiting patiently for a moment before reaching out and knocking on it.

Trevor's voice could still be heard.

_"I'm Cupid. The god of love. Fated to help people find their other halves, to make them whole, to find their true love. But now as a reward for what I've done through the millennia, I'm a vagabond. Godliness stripped away. Everything I had, everything I believed in Chicago, gone. The woman I love throwing away everything for me. Now we're alone, on the run... heading into gods know what."_

After a few moments as the shadow waited, the apartment door opened to reveal a smaller, dark shadow in the pitch black within, not saying a word.

Claire's voice could be heard answering Trevor's.

_"Trevor we have friends... Friends who will help us..."_

The smaller shadow standing inside the apartment lifted something. A flashlight flashed quickly on and off in her hands, for a moment illuminating a dreary eyes nick, who was looking over at Jaclyn as she held the flashlight, before they both were dropped back into darkness.

Claire's voice was reassuring.

_"We're not lone in this, Trevor..."_

Nick was about to enter the darkness of Jaclyn's apartment, but she refused to step aside, waiting. After a long, reluctant pause, Nick pulled his own small flashlight from his pocket, feeling silly. He flashed it on and off, just as Jaclyn had instructed him to do on the phone. Satisfied, she smiled and let him in.

----- 

Seated in the dark of the bus, Trevor looked over at Claire. "Did any of what I did matter?"

Her gaze didn't waver, looking into his eyes, certain. "Trevor, you helped me find you. To find myself. To let myself love you. You helped me in so many ways."

Leaning back in his chair, Trevor looked away. "Yeah, well maybe you're the only one. Doubt I made a difference for any one else."

"Of course you made a difference to people..."

----- 

A crowd of very confused shadows had now gathered in Jaclyn's tiny apartment. All of them were jostling around the furniture in the tight, enclosed space, unfamiliar with the layout in the dark.

Claire's voice could still be heard, spouting off names.

_ "Susan, Dan, Gabe, Cynthia, Nicole, Jaclyn, Champ, Nick, Mike, Tina, Lawrence..." _

One shadow, shorter than the others, accidentally stubbed his toe hard on the couch, letting out a softly muttered curse, hopping tenderly in place. The shadow of a woman beside him tried to help, touching him lovingly. Everyone else was still standing around.

Barely able to see, Lawrence was grateful for Tina's help, enjoying her touch. But enough was enough. He called out to the woman standing at the center of the slowly growing gathering.

"Jaclyn, could we please turn on some lights?"

A single flashlight flared to life in the dark. It pivoted over Lawrence holding Tina's hand, before swiveling up to illuminate the small, petite face of the woman who held it. Bathed from underneath in its light, Jaclyn flashed Lawrence an enigmatic smile. She calmly lifted a finger.

"Sshshhhh..." she whispered to Lawrence quietly, before the flashlight clicked off and all went dark again.

----- 

Claire looked at Trevor in the seat beside her, the bus still dark all around them. "You helped so many people, Trevor. Changed their lives for the better." 

He shook his head. "No I tried to help them. Not so sure I really did. After all those one in a million shots, all those insane schemes, I don't know if I really accomplished anything. People break up. They don't stay together."

"Maybe. But they keep what they had, Trevor..."

------ 

The gathering in the shadows of Jaclyn's apartment seemed to be waiting for something as Claire's voice continued.

_"Even if they can't see the road in front of them, bouncing down the road in the dark..."_

In the center of the room, dimly visible, Jaclyn finally spoke. "Okay... Now..."

Everyone waiting in the shadows suddenly turned on their flashlights, illuminating the room with swaths of light. Alone out of the group, Mike was still struggling to get his flashlight to work. Around him, were all the people from Claire's singles group, and one or two others. They were people Trevor knew. People he had helped. All of them were carrying flashlights as was required for admittance to this 'secret' meeting. The room's own lighting remained off, the windows tightly curtained and shut.

From far away, Trevor's voice continued.

_"But for how long does anyone keep anything, Claire?"_

Her voice answered back.

_"For as long as they can."_

Everyone in the room was looking at Jaclyn, wondering what was going on. She smiled proudly as all the flashlight beams suddenly centered directly at her. Then she reached over and pulled a thin rope hanging from the ceiling. A banner unfurled above her, and as one, every beam of light converged on it, everyone's eyes rising to read it silently.

Claire's voice continued.

_"No matter how short, it's still worth it. You taught me that. On the ship, in the psychic's tent, remember? All those experiences, all those places you helped them to reach inside. All that... stays."_

Jaclyn felt exhilarated as she stood before the group, finally feeling like she was doing something. Her eyes were bright, but her words were filled with determination, speaking out the banner's title .

"Welcome, everyone... to the first secret meeting... of the **FREE TREVOR RESISTANCE CELL**." 

----- 

Back on the dark bus, Claire looked at Trevor with sympathy in her eyes. "Deep down, you still know that, Trevor."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Then it must be down pretty deep, Claire. Cause right now... I don't know where it is. I can't find it anymore. Do you know how long it's been since I was able to remember what it was like to have my wings? To soar above the clouds and fly? Floating, weightless, to feel what it's truly like to be.. Cupid."

His last word was soft.

Slowly Claire reached out, and with the palm of her hand, she rubbed lovingly across his back, her touch slow, delicate, a gentle caress of his shoulder blades, as if touching invisible wings.

"They're still there, Trevor. They always have been."

Moving her free hand, she touched his chin, turning his face towards hers. "Trevor... with all this insanity happening right now, it makes sense to search for answers.."

----- 

"Money in the collection cap!"

Mike called out, moving around the room, his Chicago Cubs baseball cap upside down in his hand, already filled with bills. He looked disapprovingly down into it and slowly pulled out a credit card someone had placed inside. "I said money, Lawrence..."

He gave the card back to a sheepish looking Lawrence, who took it back and began searching his wallet for actual cash.

Claire's voice could still be heard.

_"Being mortal's a funny thing, Trevor. Every day challenges us. We're forced to make choices..."_

Jaclyn stepped to the center again, everyone else in many discussions around her.. She spoke up to get everyone's attention. "Okay! I have the primary contact list for phone switching and resources. And we have the contact order too! It they call you next on the list, always give them the number after yours. We don't want Trevor and Claire calling the same number twice! And someone will be on call duty at all times! We're working on ways to get the money out to them, and as far as any other essential supplies--"

Nick interrupted. "Yeah, 'bout that. I gotta friend in the video business who can get them a crate of condoms."

The room fell silent. Nick didn't understand. "What..."

Claire was still speaking.

_"We deal. We adapt. We face those challenges.."_

Suddenly there was a knock on Jaclyn's front door, and every one in the room went completely still, panicked. Jaclyn stared at them, eyes open wide, before she started flapping her arms wildly. They all looked at her, bewildered. She continued to flap her arms, as if they should understand. They didn't. Exasperated, Jaclyn grabbed a flashlight, pointedly lifted it for them all to see. She turned it off, then spreading her arms and shrugging her shoulders in silently, as if it were obvious. Finally understanding, all the flashlights in the room went out, one by one.

As the room went dark, Claire's voice continued.

_"When it's all said and done..."_

Concern flowing across her body, Jaclyn moved quietly towards the door, stepping on a few toes in the process and leaving whispered curses behind her. Standing before the door, her hand paused above the doorknob, worried about who was on the other side. Then with a deep breath to steady herself, she opened it.

Claire's words were soft.

_"And when the inevitable happens, when we finally come to the end of our lives... and look back on them..."_

The door swung open, and Champ was standing there.

Jaclyn seemed surprised to see him there again at her doorstep, after all that had happened. Champ said nothing, looking at her, her apartment dark behind her. His eyes seemed sad. Jaclyn's expression grew hard. She was certain of one thing, she wasn't going to let him in. He seemed to realize that, looking guilty as gazed into her eyes. Without much hope, he lifted a small flashlight, flashing it on, then off.

Coming out of nowhere, Claire's voice was still speaking.

_"Trevor, at the end of it all, the only the answer, the only true question is... was it worth it."_

Jaclyn's face seemed to soften. Then slowly, she lifted her flashlight... and flashed it back at him. The tiniest, grateful smile hovered beneath her scowl, grateful he wanted to help. Champ noticed, his eyes slightly misty. With a soft shared exhalation, the two of the stepped in together and closed the door.

----- 

In the darkness of the lightly bouncing bus, Claire touched Trevor's face. "The answers you're looking for, Trevor. You can only give them to yourself."

"I know, but..." He couldn't help it, his voice felt unconvinced,"... I just feel... caught in the stream, falling underwater. I feel... I feel lost, Claire. I feel lost." His words were fast and on the edge of breaking, tears in his eyes.

Claire didn't know what to say to that, looking at him.

Then suddenly, she leaned in... and kissed him, deeply, softly, and all encompassing, tender, intimate moment in the shadows. In that moment, everything else seemed to fall away, trivial to what they felt, what they shared together. In that moment, they both felt like they were shining. Slowly, everything seemed to grow brighter all around them. And then they realized that a golden light was flowing onto their faces, streaming in through the bouncing bus window as they kissed in that one, delicate moment.

Outside the bus, just above the dark, shadowed horizon, the bright edge of the morning sun had risen into the dim sky at last, instantly painting everything with newly made color and light. That same glow illuminated Trevor and Claire as they kissed, sitting on the bus together.

----- 

As the resistance cell was finishing up in her small apartment, Jaclyn was once again illuminated by all the flashlight beams converging on her as she spoke. "We've made a start here. But this is only the beginning. The beginning of our underground railroad. Talk to your friends. Contact your contacts. Call in your favors. We have to keep Trevor out of Frechette's clutches. Or, as we are all now to refer to him as, _**'The Creature'**_. Just be aware that _**'The Creature'**_ will likely question all of you soon. Don't help him. Don't assist him. Don't make _**'The Creature'**_s life easier in any way. Trevor and Claire have helped us so many times. It's our turn now, to help them."

In the middle of the group, Mike spoke solemnly to himself, his voice low. "So say we all..."

Surprised, the entire group looked at him when they heard that. Then they all, together as one reach an agreement, speaking in unison.

"So say we all..."

----- 

Claire pulled back from Trevor on the bus, their lips finally parting, laughing at the lingering sensation of kissing him, remembering the years of wanting to, but never doing it. Smiling, the morning sun glinted happily in her eyes.

"See, Trevor? It can't be dark forever."

His eyes were full of light as Trevor caressed her face gently, happy she was there. Then a thought occurred to him, and he leaned towards the glass of the window. Trevor breathed warmly onto it, causing the glass to mist over, golden bright in the morning rays. with the tip of his finger, Trevor expertly traced in the shape of a heart with an arrow through it into the condensation.

"I did that same thing once before, Claire. The first time I hopped on a bus and fled Chicago." He paused, remembering. "Gods, that seems so long ago. But that time I was alone. And now..."

"... you're not. You never were, Trevor." She slid closer to him, placing her head happily on his shoulder, her hand still clasped in his. "It's a new day. I'll always be with you. You have my heart for always. Let's find tomorrow together..."

"Wow, that's--" He looked into the distance for a moment, "--an incredibly cheesy line, Claire."

She laughed. "Maybe it is."

"I like cheese..." Turning slightly, he kissed her forehead gently, the light getting brighter on them as each minute passed into the new morning.

Lifting up, she looked into his eyes, her fingers touching his face.

"Do you have any idea where to go, Trevor?"

He gazed out the window, as if searching, his mind tumbling over images of streams and water. But then, without being able to explain why, he knew. Inside, he felt drawn to some destiny ahead, the answer there inside him.

"West... We need to go west."

----- 

After showing everyone out, Jaclyn's dark apartment was empty and quiet once more. Satisfied, she went over to the window, passing under the resistance cell banner, before energetically swinging the curtains wide open. A thick rush of beautiful morning light filled the room, flowing past her pleased expression. She proudly put down the small flashlight on the windowsill, looking into the sun, full of contentment.

"So it begins..." 

------ 

"Doctor..." A deep, male voice called out testily. 

Waking up, Dr. Ian Frechette lifted his head slowly from the sheets of paper spread across his office desk, consisting of his session notes with Faith. He had spent hours reading them the previous night. Not yet feeling completely aware, he hadn't even realized till now that he had fallen asleep in his office. 

Behind him, the same morning light that was flowing in through Jaclyn's apartment window was flowing in through his as well. Frechette blinked, his perceptions still a little hazy, trying to get his bearings. He remembered coming back to the office after questioning Jaclyn, after discovering Claire on the phone. But as he woke up now, he felt rather disheveled, unkempt, having not gone home at all. As a result he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, working well into the evening, intently studying Faith's notes in further detail. He must have lost track of the time. 

His entire body ached, feeling exhausted from the uncomfortable position in which he had slept. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was weighing on his shoulders. He felt terrible. All the venom and recriminations that both Jaclyn and Claire had thrown at him, and all his own actions of the previous day, were bouncing through his thoughts. Mingled in with that, were numerous vivid memories and images, relayed to him through his session notes with Faith. Stories and impressions that she had told him about Trevor, prophecies, predictions, and beliefs, all of it jumbling together in his now obsessed mind. 

His right hand reached back behind his throbbing skull and rubbed the sore spot that had remained there, touching it gently. That mysterious bump didn't help matters. He still couldn't explain how it had happened. It must have happened after his fall, when he had regained consciousness from fainting apparently. What other reasonable explanation was there? But had he really fainted at all? It didn't feel like the type of bump he would get from a fall, and he had found himself on his face regardless. It all felt a little confused, and he had certainly felt completely unbalanced ever since then. But deep down, he knew what he was really feeling was not because of that. If he was honest with himself, after all that he had done, he knew that what he was really feeling was... guilty. 

Still more than a little disoriented, it took him a few moments to remember that someone had spoken to him. 

A voice called out again. 

"Doctor, up here please..." 

Frechette finally... looked up.

Faith was standing there, smiling at him. 

"Hello, Ian..." 

TO BE CONTINUED... 


	5. Falling Home pg 5

PAGE FIVE

The downtown streets were quiet. In the dimness all around, large glass covered office buildings echoed softly with different sounds, their shapes towering up towards the slender blue expanse far above, where a faint early morning light was glowing down onto the city streets. The air was new and crisp, calm. At that hour, there were only a few pedestrians walking the sidewalks of those twilit valleys, scattered apart, here and there. Nothing much was happening. It seemed a scene of serenity and quiet had settled upon everything in sight. Between the towers of steel and glass, everything was at peace. Then, from somewhere far away, a strange sound wailed.

The soft, elongated sound seemed to fluctuate, hovering in the air, echoing off the skyscrapers and growing louder. Slowly it became recognizable. It was still very dim and faint, but growing noticeable. Somewhere in the unseen distance, the sound was approaching. It bounced off the buildings, louder in the crisp air and becoming more prominent. A man in a suit and tie paused on the corner of the sidewalk. He looked around, curious at the sound, but there was nothing he could see. Stepping off at the corner, he started to cross the street.

In one of the long, intersecting metal valleys nearby, the echoes suddenly became louder, clearly now the sound of approaching sirens. Dimly seen, red and blue colors began to flash faintly across the walls of glass, growing brighter. Then appearing suddenly without warning, a large worn down blue convertible came screeching around the corner, its tires screaming and smoking as its engine roared in protest, the loud sound shattering the silence. The car's driver was trying desperately to force the careening vehicle around the turn, leaving smoke and skid marks behind. The car slid sideways, tilting slightly up on one side, skidding right towards the man in the suit. He dived back towards the sidewalk behind him where he had just stepped off. A sharp rush of air whipped past him in mid dive, the car's back end missing him by inches, as the man rolled hard onto the sidewalk, dazed.

With an erratic, squealing weave, the convertible stabilized after it roared past him, zooming away on the downtown street. Suddenly several police cruiser were tearing around the corner as well. The intersection became a chaotic maelstrom of sound, motion, and wildly flashing, bright siren lights. The police cruisers stabilized quickly, their drivers more experienced, as their engines roared louder too and they sped off in pursuit.

Inside the blue convertible, the whole world seemed to be shaking wildly. Parked cars rushed closer, passing to either side in a blur. Trevor gripped the steering wheel tighter, his vision bouncing this way and that with every change of direction. He couldn't believe how fast they were going. It wasn't fast enough. Running on pure adrenaline, his hand steered, frantic, swerving dangerously around slower traffic on the street. Claire was in the seat beside him, holding on for dear life. There was a frightened expression on her face, her dark hair flying in the chaotic wind caused by them racing down that metal valley of skyscrapers. 

A sign and median in the middle of the street suddenly raced towards their front bumper. With one blink, Trevor knew he couldn't avoid it. They crashed into it even as he threw the steering wheel to one side, trying to turn. The world shook again as the front of the car clipped and bounce over the median, sending the small street sign that had been bolted there sliding across the hood to fly up past the windshield and over their heads. Smoke rose from the street behind them as the sign clattered to the asphalt. Two police cars in pursuit dodged around the bouncing sign, racing clear.

The car's engine roared in Trevor's ears. His breathing was fast, panicked. The police pursuit was still behind, red and blue swaths of light serving as reminders as the colors reflected frantically off his windshield glass. In the open air above his head, the city's skyscrapers still towered, sliding by, echoing back the wails of sirens in that enclosed space. In the seat next to him, Claire looked back at the pursuit. Behind her head, the parked cars and buildings were a blurred weave of color from the speed they were traveling. Her hair still danced wildly in the fast wind, and she looked more scared than he had ever seen her. 

Trevor's mind raced, trying to keep track of the constantly shifting obstacles ahead of him. But he was also thinking back on the past week, and all that had happened. He risked a quick glance into his rearview mirror. The reflection of two police cars seemed to fill the small glass square, dodging and weaving in his wake, headlights flashing as the dark asphalt streaked past under their tires. The engines of all the cars in the chase still roared loudly in the chaos, parked cars passing to either

The world whipped frantically to one side again as Trevor decided to charge into another high speed turn. His eyes widened when he saw that this time, he wasn't going to make it. There was a car parked before him, just ahead, Trevor shoved the steering wheel to the left. Claire screamed. the side of the convertible scraped harshly past the parked car, sending a sheet of white sparks pluming up right next to her in a shower of light as everything shook. With a hideous metal screech the convertible they were riding slipped past, all in a quarter of a second, now still somehow racing down the road.

Trevor did his best not to panic at the close call.

"Gods, how I prefer flying..." His eyes studied what was ahead intently, adrenaline still pumping through him at a million miles an hour it seemed. Swallowing, he could feel his entire body painfully clenched in exertion, racing onward. And again, he wondered... how it had all come to this.

**ONE WEEK EARLIER...**

Frechette couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Faith was standing calmly there in front of his desk, smiling at him as if nothing were wrong. But everything was wrong. As he looked at her, she appeared completely untarnished, not stained, not dirtied. Instead of her hair being sickly twisted into a pool of her own dark, dried blood, her blond strands were now lying freely across her shoulders, glowing golden and straight. She still wore the hospital scrubs he had last seen her in. But now they were clean, smooth and immaculate. There was no bullet hole puncturing the middle of her scrubs top, no mud staining the lower trim of her pant fabric above her feet.

Frechette's eyes moved to her arm, towards the exposed skin where she had been carving a heart surrounding Trevor's name repeatedly for months, carving it deeply in with any pointed objected she could find... forks, pens. But the red, scabbed lines that had been there before... were gone. There wasn't even a scar. Her pale skin was smooth, unblemished. He looked back up into her eyes, the back of his head still throbbing. Instead of looking into dead, empty orbs of glass, as he had the previous morning when he had stood over her body, now he was looking into astonishingly blue eyes that were vibrant, sparkling, and very much alive. But above all, above everything else, what struck him the most was that Faith seemed happy. She looked... whole. Complete. No longer damaged. As her blue eyes glittered at him, her smile made him feel that somehow she was happy to see him again. He couldn't stop staring at her, standing there, full of serenity.

This was insane. Frechette didn't move from his chair, petrified. Somehow he forced himself to say something into the silence. The words spilled softly from the hard line of his mouth, saying the only words he could accept.

"This cannot be..."

She didn't seem concerned, watching him. "It's okay, Ian."

Slowly, he pulled back in his chair. "You... you're not real. You can't be real."

Faith smiled, the sight of it genuine. "There are far less **_cant's_** in the world than you think..."

"Trevor killed you."

"Only a little..." 

Looking away from her, Frechette paused to think. He couldn't accept this. "This means... I'm going crazy."

There was a playful glint in her eyes as she looked at him. But when she spoke, there was no concern in what she said. "Maybe. Give it time... You'll see. Everything happens the way it has to."

"Happen? What does that mean. What will happen?" 

For no reason, he was suddenly struck even more strongly by how beautiful she was. He had forgotten how blue her eyes were. They looked at him with a certainty, unwavering and kind as she answered. "You'll try to help him, Ian. Help him to capture Trevor. But don't worry. He won't."

Frechette's voice grew harder, angry for the first time. "What? Who? That makes no sense. No one want's Mr. Hale in custody more than I do. I **_want_** him caught." 

Again she only responded with a kind smile. "Maybe. Give it time... You'll see..." 

Suddenly he felt like he was dancing with a shadow, grabbing for something solid, but instead being frustrated by her cryptic responses, yelling out. "And just what the hell am I supposed to see?"

Not liking his tone, a deep male voice called out. "Doctor?" 

Blinking suddenly, Frechette pulled back in surprise at the new sound. Faith was no longer there. Instead, the thick, imposing figure of the police detective who was investigating Faith's murder was standing in front of his desk. The man's hard features were giving him an angry look, obviously displeased that Frechette had raised his voice to him.

Frechette tried to get his bearings. "What's... what's happening."

The police detective's gaze was definitely not kind. "Well, Doctor. I arrived to talk to you. I came in, found you working at your desk. I called out, but you ignored me. You mumbled something, and ignored me again. And just when I was about to get really, really angry at all of the being ignored... you decided to yell at me."

Squirming slightly under the angry police man's stare, Frechette couldn't help but feel that he had been caught in a delicate situation. "My... apologies, Detective. I was just... obviously lost in my own imagination. Talking to myself. I must have been caught up in my work. I was up all night, studying Faith's records. How can I help you?"

Still obviously trying to contain his anger, the detective stepped closer, looming over him as he stayed seated at his desk. Frechette could tell something had already upset him before the hard faced policeman had ever even come into his office. "That's interesting, Doctor. I was up late last night too. Going through Dr. Allen's records on Mr. Hale. Accessing her laptop computer. Can you imagine... what I found?"

"Found?" Frechette looked away, nervous. "Found what?"

"Well... Let's see. It was a fascinating read. Claire's laptop had the remains of some... book that she had apparently been writing. One she also apparently abandoned. After reading that rather enlightening document and comparing it to Dr. Allen's own session notes with Mr. Hale, well..." Turning, the detective slowly put his palms slowly down on the desk top, leaning dangerously over him, a dim anger in his eyes. "...I couldn't help but come to the conclusion that you haven't been telling me the whole truth, Doctor."

"Truth?" Frechette swallowed, feeling very much interrogated. "Wha-what truth?"

"It seems that Dr. Allen and Mr. Hale were more than likely romantically involved. A little detail her records indicate you had definite suspicions of. A little detail you also conveniently failed to mention when you informed me of this suspected 'kidnapping'..."

"I... nothing of what I told you was in error."

"Really? We both know that's not true, don't we? You want to know what I really think is true?"

Frechette looked away. "I don't know what you are talking about..." 

"I'm thinking that you're lying to me, **_Doctor_**..." The detective said the last word with disdain, not trying to hide it. "That clear this up a little? I think you know more about what's really going on than you've told me. I believe you're holding information back from this investigation."

Without warning, he could feel his entire body go tense, his hands still resting on the exposed sheets of his hand written session notes with Faith. For a moment he was grateful that his handwriting was so bad. The detective probably couldn't read it from where he was standing. But if he could, he would realize he was hitting closer to home than he realized. Frechette pulled the sheets slowly back, trying not to be noticed. "That's... that's ridiculous..." 

The detective noticed his hands, looking more carefully. "What are those papers you're looking at..."

Frechette's body went cold. "Nothing. A... a session from yesterday I have to catch up on." 

The look the detective gave him made it obvious that he didn't really believe that. "Then I'll ask you directly, Doctor. DO you have information you haven't given me? About Faith? About Trevor and Claire's relationship? Perhaps a contact list of people who may be in the process at this very moment of aiding and abetting their escape?" 

Frechette couldn't believe it. It was surreal. Those were the exact notes he had been last reading the night before. They were right there under his fingers. Names of people Faith somehow knew Trevor had helped. People Frechette had already planned to question on his own. And now, the detective was asking for that exact thing. Frechette swallowed, not willing to implicate himself any further, not wanting to give the detective any more ammo to distrust him. 

"No..." He said simply, looking at the hard faced man. "I have nothing like that."

There was a knowing glint in the detective's eye. "Okay... I think I understand."

Frechette was nervous. The detective seemed to have a course of action in mind, but he wasn't saying. But Frechette could see the man's mind working, the detective pausing.

"I'll be going now, Doctor. If you do somehow... 'discover'... any new information related to this case, such as where the two of them are, or who may be currently helping them, you'll need to pass that information to me as soon as you have it. I..." The man's smile was small, but immediately menacing, looking down at him behind the desk. "...I trust that we're clear on this?"

Looking down, Frechette was putting up his session notes with Faith, slipping them into his desk drawer as if nothing were wrong, but feeling inside that his stomach was tied up in knots. Trying to put the most convincing calm expression he could muster onto his face once his desk drawer was fully closed, he looked back up at the detective and smiled. "You already have all that I have..."

Shaking his head silently, the aged police man decided to say nothing further. He turned and quickly left Frechette's office, his footsteps fading away. After a few moments in the quiet, Frechette finally exhaled, his chest relaxing again. His body went limp, feeling he had been in a dueling match. He looked at his now empty desktop.

Walking away from the doctor's office, the detective was in a foul mood. His brow was hard and angry as he walked past his seated assistant, who was waiting for him in a cushioned chair outside the office. The younger man stood quickly, rushing to catch up to the detective's determined steps. As the two of them walked down the hallway, he looked expectantly at his older superior. "So? The doctor give up any leads on this?"

"No..." The detective seemed lost in his own thoughts. "But he's holding something back. I know it. Get me a judge. We're gonna have to subpoena all of Dr. Frechette's files."

The younger man looked confused. "So was it like you thought? Do you no longer think this was an armed kidnapping?"

He shook his head. "No, I think she went with him willingly. Something Dr. Frechette definitely kept from us."

"Then should we have the alert level we sent out for Mr. Hale lowered?"

The detective stopped in the hallway, thinking about this as his subordinate waited. "No... No. We'll keep it where it is for now. The man's a nut. Thinks he's the god of love so he murdered a mental patient. Not much crazier than that..."

The detective scoffed, chucking as he and the younger man began to walk again. "As if he were really Cupid..."

The two of them disappeared down the hallway.

Frechette was still silent at his desk.

Slowly his hand reached out and slid open his desk drawer, pulling Faith's session notes carefully out again. Thoughts tumbled through his head, looking down at his writing. He knew what he would have to do. He would have to question all the people Faith had mentioned on his own. He couldn't offer this to the detective directly, not now. And if he was honest, he didn't want to. It was time to get Trevor caught and back in custody. And he wanted to be the one to accomplish it personally. That was the only resolution that would give him peace. And considering what had happened, the momentary stressed induced vision of Faith, perhaps it was the only thing that would get her out of his mind. Frechette paused, surprised. He could smell something... a scent, a perfume that Faith had once used. That was strange.

Frechette shook his head disapprovingly. He knew this was all in his mind, just wild imagination. It had to be. Otherwise... he truly was insane. It was a one time vision, nothing more. Did he just hear a bare foot moving across the carpet behind his desk? Frechette froze, smelling her perfume stronger in the air over his shoulder, almost certain there was a shadow on the edge of his vision and falling across his desk, feeling a comforting warmth of contentment there. But he forced himself not to look. Staring straight ahead instead, he looked down at the list of people Faith had mentioned. She wasn't there over his shoulder. That was foolish. But she could help him catch Trevor Hale. Looking down at the names, Frechette smiled, already making plans. Jaclyn was useless. The key was with one woman, Trevor's supposed kidnap victim, and her singles group. The woman who had brought these people together to help him.

Claire Allen was sitting in silence as the cab bounced down the country road, her face calm and thoughtful. Trevor was asleep in the seat beside her as she looked out the window of the cab, the green image of reflected trees passing across the glass over her pensive expression. Then the cab driver made a turn, moving the vehicle onto a smaller path off the main road, Claire looked eagerly up, searching ahead. The foliage still slipped past, but then the hazy image of a distant house hovered over her face, reflected on the glass, and she smiled. 

Turning, Claire gently shook Trevor, asleep on the back seat beside her, waking him.

"Trevor... we're here."

Slowly, he yawned, blinking himself to awareness. It was the first real rest he had had in days. He looked around at the small country dirt lane they were bouncing down, the afternoon light falling out of a calm blue, cloudless sky. The lane was lined and surrounded by thick green trees. His eyes focused on the two story house up ahead at the end of the lane.

"Here? Where's here, Claire?"

"A home..." Her eyes glinted brightly as she watched the house grow closer. Then she turned to him with a hopeful smile. "...a home you helped create."

Trevor didn't understand, looking ahead.

As they approached a couple came out of the house and onto the front porch, holding hands as they watched the cab approach, waiting. It took a few seconds for Trevor to finally see their faces. It was an older man and woman, their faces happy, watching them drive up. And it was then that he recognized them. Angela and Michael Bennett. The man who loved to dance, and the woman who had been afraid too. Claire looked at Trevor, appreciating the small smile that was blossoming on his face. Whatever Trevor's situation with the gods or with himself, she knew he always felt better when he saw one of his pairings that had actually worked out. And she saw that familiar look on his face right now. 

The couple on the porch looked happy, complete, having gotten through their own hard times, with a little of Trevor's help. Reaching over, Claire held his hand, hoping he understood the good she was trying to show him.

"See what you've done, Trevor?"

He couldn't help but smile as the cab came to a stop, the couple coming down the wooden steps to greet them, obviously eager to help, and obviously not fearing the consequences that they were wanted fugitives. And for once, Trevor was at a loss for words.

The last remnants of the dinner plates were carefully guided into the kitchen sink, clinking softly as Claire helped Michael and Angela clear the kitchen table. It had been a good, full meal, one that they hadn't had in what seemed a long time. Claire paused, placing the last of the plates on top of the others, letting her worries fall off her shoulders, feeling safe here. She turned to Michael, his face content in the afternoon light streaming in through the small window over the sink. 

"Thank you so much Michael. It was delicious."

Angela walked by her with a small laugh. "Well if there's something Michael can really do well, it's cook," She looked at him tenderly. "...and dance."

He laughed, touching her hand nearby. "Well you are the music that keeps my feet moving, my love."

Claire exhaled. "Well I'm glad you can do both. And thank you for taking me and Trevor in. I know it's a risk--"

Michael waved his hands carefully interrupting her. "Don't worry about that. You both did so much for us." He looked at his wife. "You helped save our marriage."

He turned back to Claire. "And whatever this business is that's on the news... I know Trevor. I know he couldn't do this. Not without reason."

Angela nodded her agreement. "And whatever we can do to help, we will."

"Well thank you very much. We'll be leaving in the morning. Gotta keep moving." Her face grew concerned. "On the news? How bad is it?"

Michael's face grew somber, looking her straight in the eye. "Bad."

Claire looked down.

Michael smiled at her again. "Don't worry. I'm sure all this will be cleared up soon. Anyone who knows him, knows Trevor well enough not to believe the lies on the news. It won't stick."

"I hope so..." Claire sighed, keeping her thoughts to herself. Then she looked up. "Where's Trevor?"

Angela replied while she wiped the now clear kitchen table down, doing the last of the cleaning up. "Oh, he went outside after dinner, into the backyard. Don't worry. It's secluded back there, and he said he needed some fresh air."

Curious, Claire walked over to the window over the kitchen sink, looking out as the late afternoon light gently bathed her face. And then she paused, looking out sadly towards a small swing set some distance back from the house, the sunset falling in beams through the thick trees beyond. Trevor was seated there in the orange sunlight, swinging sadly, facing away from her, alone. Claire's lips closed slowly, watching him. Then she turned, heading for the back door.

Trevor didn't even know Claire was approaching until he suddenly heard her footsteps, soft on the grass behind him, remaining lost in his own thoughts. But he didn't turn around, staring ahead of him at the rays of the sun as they angled warmly down through the green of the trees in the late afternoon,. The swing creaked as his body swayed on it. Claire came closer. Carefully, she took the swing beside him, not saying anything, but quiet as she leaned towards his swing, her shoulder on the chain, keeping silent. They both sat there, like two kids, tired after a long day.

But Trevor knew what they faced was much more than child's play.

"The news thinks I'm a murderer, Claire..."

"I know..." Claire looked over at him.

"After dinner..." Trevor looked sadly ahead. "... I turned on a tv. Couldn't help myself. There are still news reports going. To the world, I'm just a label now. Worse than my previous label. Worse than just insane psychotic. Now I'm a murdering insane psy--..."

A tear fell quietly down his cheek, stopping him as he wiped it away. "But the truth is, maybe they're right. I murdered someone, Claire. I killed her. I... maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe I gave up on her, when I should have been trying to help her." He sniffed, trying to keep his feelings in. "She's dead, because I didn't help her. Some god I am, huh?"

Claire sighed, looking ahead. "Trevor, let me tell you a little about Faith..."

As the two of them sat there on the swing set, he turned to her, hand holding the chain beside him. For a moment, he had the strange sensation of being just a young boy talking to his girl. He was curious about what she was going to say. 

"There are things you didn't know about her, Trevor. I... I had a look at her file once. Richard consulted me on it. Long before Mary Simmons met you, long before she even knew you existed, Mary, Faith, was already... damaged."

"But I murdered her, Claire. I--"

"--did what you had to do, Trevor. She was trying to kill me. It's hard to remember sometimes, but people live entire lives on their own, before we ever meet them. Everyone has decades of story behind them. A history. Events that shaped them. Faith's history was set long before you got there. Her father... abused her. Told her it was okay. It was 'love'. Despite that, the child inside her loved him, and the victim he turned her into hated him. She wanted to kill him eventually, I think. But he died long before she ever got the chance to. So she started searching. Relationship books, mythological figures, dating services, looking for what 'love' truly was. Unable to accept the hideous things her father did to her while claiming it. She just wanted that pain to end. Wanted something to 'free' her. Her relationship with the word, with the emotion of 'love', was skewed. She didn't realize she was hunting 'love', sabotaging it while looking to it for the release, for a revenge she could never have. First she tried to kill you, the god of love. Then she wanted to be killed by you. Wanted 'love' to make the pain it had caused, stop. All that she did... All your matches she purposely ruined. I know you told me you thought it was the vendetta of the gods. Some Olympic condemnation. But Trevor, it wasn't gods. It was just... a disturbed woman."

Trevor looked at her. "Disturbed? Like me?"

"You never intentionally wanted to hurt anyone, Trevor."

"Well... Dr. Dehnt."

"Anyone who didn't deserve it." Claire smiled.

Trevor smiled too, before looking away. "I don't know. We can't just keep running like this forever. We can only hide ourselves for so long, before the real world looking for me out there catches up. Nothing changes the fact that I killed her."

"No it doesn't change that. I don't know what happens next, Trevor. I can't give you those answers. But who you remain within that, those are answers only you can only give yourself. You are still the man I love inside. The man who knows deep down that he really is Cupid. Who has faith in _THAT_. No matter how much the world changes around you. Give yourself credit, Trevor. You help people. Lots of people..." She looked past them towards the house, sunlight in her eyes as she paused, a smile growing on her face at what she saw. "And sometimes those changes... are changes for the better."

She pointed gently past his shoulder. Curious, Trevor turned in his swing, looking towards the house. In the field beside it, holding each other in the golden light, were two figures, surrounded by tiny motes floating in the tranquil air, the green of the trees behind them. It was Michael and Angela, unaware that they were being watched, their eyes only for each other as they swayed... and danced. There was happiness on their faces, the two of them circling through the gentle specks as the sun's warm glow held them close to each other, content. They were dancing to some unheard music inside themselves, enjoying the moment, enjoying each other. And as Trevor watched them, he remembered again what had happened to them, what he had done for them. What he had given them. 

"That's your legacy, Trevor. Not Faith. Not news reports. Faith made things happen the way she wanted them to. She had a twisted view of love, of her father. Why do you think she wanted to kill you? Or to be killed by you? Because you represented 'love' to her." Claire looked away, thinking of Mary Simmons. "I just hope that in death, that she's found some peace..."

"It's all so clear to me now, Ian."

Smiling, Faith looked up into the morning sky the next day as, dressed in the same immaculate scrubs as before, she walked barefoot down a crowded Chicago sidewalk, accompanying an obviously tense Dr. Frechette. He did his best not to look at her, did his best not to notice that no one else on the crowded sidewalk seemed able to see or hear her. Did his best not to think of the implications of that. 

"Go away..." He said simply, not turning his head as he strode purposely forward. "You're not real."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." she said back at him, keeping pace. "Do you know how sad it would be if I actually believed you?"

"I'm not listening."

"Yes you are, Ian. There's no way you can't. But I can help you. Help you see."

"You're in my head."

"Well... I do have that affect on people. Don't worry. I'm fond of you too. That's why I'm here. To help you. We're going to spend a lot of time together. So talk to me." 

"No."

"You really aren't going to make this easier, are you? Well, the morning's beautiful, the air is new," Faith suddenly spun barefoot on the side walk in her pristine hospital scrubs, her blue eyes glowing with happiness. "It makes me feel alive. Free. And I'm going to be right here with you. Help you get through this, however long it takes. I've got nothing but time..."

Stopping on the sidewalk, Frechette had heard enough of her talking. He suddenly turned to face Faith behind him, fixing her with an angry glare. "Enough! Stop it!"

A pedestrian walked by giving him a strange look, seeing him there alone and talking to thin air. Frechette's jaw clenched, lowering his head, embarrassed and silently furious, growing angrier by the second. He looked back up at Faith, waiting patiently before him.

"Look, I know you're not real. You're in my head. But I'm going to do these interviews. I'm going to gather information on Trevor and Claire, and I'm going to hunt him down. Even if I have to question all of his friends, _all of their_ friends, I know that will give me what I need to accomplish that. And no one... not even you, will stop me."

Faith seemed sad, her voice quiet. "You really don't understand, do you... I already told you, long ago, when and how you would find Trevor. And you believed me. You even made the call. But that moment's not this moment. Everything will happen the way it should. When it really is time for you to find where they are, Ian ... believe me. You won't even need to leave your office to do it."

The sky above was blue and clear, full of new promise as Michael Bennett led Trevor out of his home's side door and towards a small building towards the back of the grounds, walking along a wide dirt path in the grass. Morning sunlight was shining crisply down through the cool air, falling through the tree limbs gently dancing in the soft morning breeze. Trevor followed calmly, feeling better in the new morning light, the heavy gloom f the previous day lifting somewhat, even if he knew that it was still hovering there somewhere, hidden behind the bright light of a new day.

Michael didn't explain where they were going. Once he reached the wide wooden portal of the old building, he simply turned the handle with a creak, lifting the door upwards with a rattle on rusty rails. A shower of light dust poured down like a waterfall, falling slowly in the air. Trevor watched the dust motes float in the sunlight for a moment, seeing them swerve in the breeze, for some reason remembering the sensation of flying. But then he looked past them into the shadows beyond, into the space that Michael had opened up. As he watched Trevor's reaction, Michael stood there proudly, a small smile on his face as Trevor slowly stepped forward, amazed by what was inside the dark recesses of the small building.

"Been saving her in here for some time..."

Trevor was speechless.

"She's all yours..." Michael said, looking inside, fondness in his words.

"No, we--"

Michael would hear none of it, interrupting with a kindly gesture. "Take her. She'll do you more good than she will us..."

Claire was inside the house, gathering their things and getting ready to leave. She looked down at the paltry supplies she and Trevor had. A suitcase she had borrowed from Jaclyn. Another she had borrowed this morning from Angela. There wasn't much, not much food, not much clothing. But she still had plenty of money. It would have to do. Claire began to wonder where they could run to next, already thinking about calling a cab when Angela appeared at the bedroom door and gave her a look.

Wondering what was happening, Claire stepped closer. "Angela? What's wrong?"

Angela's eyes gave away nothing. "You have... a visitor."

Swinging the house's front door open, Claire walked outside and onto the porch, Angela following right behind her, as Claire paused at what she saw. A car had pulled up, parked there in front of the house. Standing beside it was Priscilla, a woman from Claire's singles group, smiling eagerly at them in the morning sunlight.

"Priscilla... My god, what are..." Claire couldn't help but smile back as she hurried down the steps and hugged the woman warmly. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Claire." Priscilla said happily. "I'm not doing anything to exciting here. Just a quick supply run. Angela called us. The FTR gathered some money, supplies. Figured you could use the help."

Claire blinked. "FTR?"

"The Free Trevor Resistance Cell." Patricia said proudly. "But I'm kinda on a secret mission here so... don't tell anyone." Playfully, she lifted a finger to her lips and shushed Claire.

Claire simply looked at her, feeling grateful. 'Wow. That's... thank you."

"All the supplies are in the trunk, Claire. Come on, take a look."

Everything was pitch black for a moment. Then the car's trunk lifted up, revealing a deep blue sky with Angela, Claire and Patricia, looking down into the compartment. Claire seemed impressed. "What is all of this?"

"The resistance cell's collection. Only the essentials of course..."

Claire laughed. She lifted out a large bag filled to the brim, taking it out from the assortment, curious as to what it was. Priscilla reached into the bag and pulled out a small, spongy yellow object wrapped in clear plastic. "Snack cakes... for Trevor. The other bags have some clothes, various things... That large box there is from Nick. said it was something you would need the most, and that's the biggest box he could fit in the trunk..."

With effort Claire lifted the box, smiling when she saw it was an extremely heavy shipping package of condoms.

She looked down at all the supplies that had been gathered. And standing in the morning sunlight, with the air quickly warming all around her, she couldn't help but feel touched by all that they had done. "Thank you so much, Priscilla. We could really use the help. But please, don't put yourself or the others at risk if you can avoid it."

"Claire, we all vowed to thwart THE CREATURE at every turn, and we will..." Reaching down to pull out more supplies from the trunk, Priscilla didn't see Claire's confused look behind her as she silently mouthed the words 'the creature' to herself. Priscilla carried on, turning back to face her. "And there's no risk in this, Claire. All very subtle stuff. Don't worry. Completely low key. Except maybe for the fliers..."

"Fliers?"

"Yeah. Ooh, and the web site. Maybe T-shirts soon... Jackie's been busy."

"So it seems..." Claire tried to hide her smile.

Priscilla handed her a small slip of paper. "Here's the next contact number to call tomorrow. It will switch everyday. They'll set up the next supply drop, maybe another place to hide too. We're all working on it. Don't use cell phones. They can track which tower you're on. Just know that a lot of people love you. Speaking of love... Where's Trevor?"

"I don't really..." Thinking, Claire paused, looking around. She realized she hadn't seen him all morning. For a brief, cold moment she thought maybe he had gone on without her and left her behind. But then the quiet scene was broken by a loud engine roar, as a shiny black mustang convertible darted out next to them from beside the house. With a boisterous move, the car spun expertly in place, the end flipping around towards them, wheels spinning and kicking up a wake of dust as it finally came to a stop. The powerful muscle car was jet black, shiny and pristine in the morning light. Seated in the driver's seat next to an obviously stunned Michael, was Trevor, laughing at his new toy. Michael finally released his vice grip on the dashboard as Trevor beamed happily, eyes sparkling as he looking over at Claire.

"Ok, Claire... NOW we can leave..."

Finally beginning the session, Frechette carefully straightened his notepad sitting on the desk before him. He looked across it to see a man staring at him silently. The hardened psychologist paused, swallowing, not knowing if he could go through with this. Something was itching across the back of his shoulders. Because without turning around, he knew that Faith was there during all of this, right behind him. He felt her standing there in the shadows, heard her feet scrape the floor whenever she moved, smelled her perfume on the air as she listened. The therapist he looked at before him seemed to acknowledge none of this. So he refused to acknowledge it as well.

"I suppose you know why I'm talking to you..." he told the man.

Suddenly it was a completely different room, no desk this time. Frechette was in a chair, his notepad on his lap, facing another chair where Lawrence sat, nothing between them as they sat in the younger man's apartment. Lawrence looked uncomfortable as he waited to answer the doctor's question, as if searching for a safe response. For a moment Frechette's brow furrowed, wondering if he would be cooperative.

"_Well... _do YOU know why you're talking to me?"

Sighing, Frechette lowered his head. He was sitting in front of the therapy desk again, notebook lying there before him, everything quiet in the dim room. "Of course I know... I arranged for this session because... I need therapy. Things have been happening in my life, things that cannot be. That's why I came to see you, to help me with my problem..."

Now Frechette was suddenly in a completely different room, full of loud conversation and bright lighting. He was seated at a small table inside a downtown Chicago Starbucks, two untouched cups of coffee on the table before him, waiting across from Tina from Claire's singles group. She was silent, giving him a disdainful glare, not looking very cooperative. 

"What problem is that?" she asked coldly.

"My Trevor Hale problem..." Frechette looked down at his cup of coffee across from hers. "I'm conducting these interviews so I can help apprehend a dangerous man. You can tell me his whereabouts, can't you?" 

Confidently, he lifted his cup and took a drink, assured in his mind that there was no way anyone could resist his authority. Slowly, he reached down and placed the coffee mug back on the table. But then--

--it was a different container in his hands as he let go, a glass filled with ice and soda. Around him was the wide open interior of Taggerty's, slightly less than packed at that time of the day. Frechette was now in a booth, sitting across from Mike from the singles group. The gruff looking man had a Chicago Cubs cap on. There were two glasses of soda on the table between them, both of the men covered in the warm daylight glow from the front window beside them. Frechette waited for a response to his question. And then... he continued to wait. Mike's arms were crossed across his chest, his fiery eyes steady and unblinking as he fixed Frechette with a long, unwavering, hateful glare. Frechette wondered for a moment if the man was going to hit him. Slowly, he looked down--

--before he looked up again. He was back in the dim, quiet office where he was having his therapy session. Frechette looked up again at the man who was watching him across the desk, but neither of them offered anything more. Knowing how strange it sounded even in his own ears, he started to explain further. "You're right of course. I guess I should be more succinct as to the exact symptoms of my condition. I've been having... hallucinatory visions."

"Hey doc, Nick's here for you, you know? Whatever you need..."

Cars were whipping loudly by on the street as Frechette stood on a sunlit sidewalk. He was outside of a downtown strip joint called the Cherry Orchard Club, a questionable establishment which he had eventually coaxed Nick out of. The building's music could still be heard thumping dimly from within, competing with the noise of the street. Blinking, Frechette looked at Nick, for some reason growing suspicious, not believing his sympathy for a second. To his eyes, Nick didn't seem worried at all, like he had already known Frechette was going to talk to him.

Nick gestured to the thumping strip club. "Sure you don't want to do this inside? You can see some amazing things in there. I could loan you a few ones..." 

"No thank you." Frechette twitched, feeling uncomfortable in that neighborhood. "However, I am--"

"--glad you are cooperating in this very serious matter. As you must surely know, I am here with questions."

Frechette was back in Taggerty's again, sitting across from Mike, who said nothing in response to his simple statement. Instead, Mike merely stared at him, unblinking, a long dangerous glare, his features hard and uncompromising.

After a few seconds of awkward silence under that harsh gaze, Frechette began to squirm uncomfortably, shifting slightly in the seat of the booth. "Very well, Michael... Since it seems you aren't volunteering information, let start again. Do you know why I'm here?"

In his very small apartment, Lawrence nodded, putting a pen to his lips as if giving it very deep scholarly thought. Then finally, he looked over at Frechette sitting across from him and answered as if it were obvious.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Frechette's eyes were softer, seeming concerned as he looked across the desk into the eyes of his therapist. "I'm here because I'm seeing things I shouldn't be seeing. Because I may be going crazy..."

Seated in the Starbucks, Tina nodded, calmly taking an unconcerned sip from her coffee mug. "Because of your small penis, right?"

Frechette sputtered in surprise as he sat in the crowded room. "What? No... That's completely... I'm here because of Trevor."

In the sunshine outside the strip club, Nick sniffed. "Trevor? What's a Trevor." Squinting at him in the bright glare, the bearded doctor couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You can't be this stupid."

Lawrence shrugged in his apartment.

"I don't know. Do you think I could be this stupid?"

Frechette shook his head in frustration. "I think that the authorities... that I... need to find the man. The simple man named Trevor Hale."

Suddenly Nick was more jovial and animated, stepping closer on the sidewalk. "Hey doc, whatta you need Trevor for? I'm the master of love too, if you know what I mean. Sure, you're old. But I can still hook you up with some sweet thang. And for once you won't even need to pay her. Get you some dirty down low love. Bottle your rocket. Shiver your timber. Yeah, buddy."

Nick couldn't help but laugh, lifting his hand in anticipation of a high five that would never come. 

Frechette glared at him, thinking. "Or... there's another way that you can--"

"--help me."

The doctor's voice was low, somber as he looked across the desk at his therapist.

In the Starbucks coffee shop, Tina shook her head, not agreeing with him. "I doubt there's a cure for small penis."

Outside, Nick sniffed again and shrugged. "So why ask for help?"

Back in his therapy session, Frechette couldn't contain himself, opening up, his words soft, fast and intense. "Because she's in my thoughts, she's in my dreams--"

He looked past Tina's shoulder in the crowded coffee shop and saw that Faith was standing there smiling at hi. So he yelled over at her. "--she's in my head!"

Lawrence blinked, seated in his apartment. Confused, he looked over his shoulder at the empty space behind him.

"Who are you talking to?" 

Lowering his gaze, Frechette seethed in his embarrassment. "No one. Let's stay on the subject."

Nick didn't mind, continuing his pointless story, gesturing and talking excitedly as the cars blurred past behind him. "So like I was sayin, when I finally got her back to her place, and I slipped that sweet outfit off of her... wasn't till then that I saw it." Suddenly Nick seemed embarrassed, disappointed in what had happened.

From within the confines of Lawrence's apartment, Frechette leaned forward eagerly, his expensive pen waiting in anticipation over his notepad. "What did you see?"

Lawrence paused yet again, searching for some clever answer. "What... did YOU see?"

Lifting his eyes, Frechette looked dejectedly across at his therapist.

"A dead woman..." he said sadly.

Calmly, Tina put her coffee cup down and looked at him. "You really never have touched a woman, have you?"

Nick laughed loudly in the sunlight, smiling. "Knew it all along, man."

Struggling for calm, Frechette continued. "That's... not what this interview is about."

Still keeping a thoughtful expression, Lawrence tapped his pen against his lips, looking very shrinkish.

"What IS this interview about?"

As Taggerty's began to fill, Frechette tiredly ran his fingers over his head with a sigh. "It's about Trevor Hale. Wanted murderer. So let's try this again. Could you give me just one straight answer please?" 

Mike was silent, giving him a long, angry stare. Then after a few seconds, he finally spoke. "Do you know how many breakable bones there are in the human body..? All of them."

Frechette tilted his head. "Now that's not very helpful, is it. Let's get back to Trevor. I need to find him."

In the coffee shop, Tina gave him a disdainful look. "Because of the small penis thing? You could always switch." 

Frechette blinked at her. "Switch?"

Lawrence blinked too. "Switch?"

Nick simply nodded. "Might be the way to go, boss."

Mike was still staring at the doctor, loudly cracking his knuckles, slowly, thoughtfully.

Inside the Starbucks, Frechette didn't understand, asking again. "What do you mean by switch?"

Tina didn't hesitate. "Switch sides. Do all women a favor. Play for the other team. Though the other team might not like your small penis either."

Nick gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, sunshine streaming onto them. "And despite what chicks tell me, it really does matter, man. Yeah buddy. My other girlfriends? Sore for days, know what I'm sayin..? See, that's the reason they never answer my calls after. Know why?" Nick nodded proudly. "Did it right the first time. Well, hope that helps..."

"Not in the slightest. I believe all of this is the definition of a 'run around'. Well... who do you think could assist me?"

Pausing, Nick thought about it. "Umm... god?"

Frustrated, Frechette was walking alone along a Chicago sidewalk.

Tina frowned. "Lawrence?"

And as Frechette walked there, he paused... seeing something on the floor.

Lawrence bobbed his pen along with his words. "Have you talked to Tina? Or maybe Mike?"

Mike sat wordlessly in Taggerty's, with the same long, silent glare.

Reaching down where he had stopped on the sidewalk, Frechette gingerly picked up a piece of paper

Nodding, Tina tried again. "Or maybe Nick knows..."

Confused, Nick scratched his head. "What was the question again?" The doctor seemed to surrender. "It was... unimportant."

Frechette sighed, looking over again at Mike still staring at him. "Are we done for today?"

Out on the sidewalk, Frechette was stunned at what he read on the paper. It was a flier, announcing the next meeting place of something called the FREE TREVOR RESISTANCE movement. He couldn't believe his eyes. Standing there at a complete loss, he could still hear Lawrence talking. "_Don't know..._"

Lawrence shrugged, facing him in his apartment. "Do YOU think we're done for today?"

"Yes... I think we're done. I don't believe we accomplished anything today."

Frechette finally put down his pen, resigned as he looked at his paltry, unproductive notes. He looked across the desk at his therapist. He was completely alone in the therapy room, facing a large mirror he had placed on the far side of the desk to run his own therapy. He looked into the eyes of his reflection and gave up, rising from the chair in his office, and calling it quits.

Pausing later that night, Jaclyn looked up from the information she was writing down, and quietly smiled at what she had made.

The crowded interior of Cuppa Java was bustling with a hectic, almost party like atmosphere. People were moving hurriedly back and forth, music playing in the air above their heads as the bustling hive of activity continued to run at a full tilt. Some people were handing in money from the numerous containers they had spent the day gathering it in. Others were carrying supplies, or placing bundles of new cloth in large boxes. Even more were in small groups all around the busy room, clustered  
together on dozens of cell phones, laughing but serious as they made calls, trying to find new hiding places, routes Trevor and Claire could take.

It was a crowded bright place Jaclyn faced, the glittering skyline of Chicago shining through the wide window behind her. And draped above that window was the same FREE TREVOR RESISTANCE banner that had hung in her small apartment. Jaclyn couldn't believe how fast this 'secret' organization had grown, the meetings now far bigger than her tiny apartment could handle. The manager of Cuppa Java had offered them the use of the coffee bar overnight, and the group had moved there. Everyone was still worried for Trevor and Claire, but they seemed happy to help, to actually be doing something proactive. That spirit lifted the room, the same room where Claire's singles group had held meetings, and where Trevor had always been so very much Trevor. It seemed somehow fitting. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Champ who was there helping too, but she moved on. So many people. Willing to back up Trevor because of what he had done for them. Maybe soon, even Cuppa Java would be to small.

Going back to her work, she finished writing down the last of the information that had been offered to her. Picking up several sheets of paper, she stepped forward on the stage, raising her voice to be heard over the music as she addressed the busy group.

"Okay everyone! We've had a good haul for tonight! Kudos all around. Lots of money and supplies. We should get it to Claire and Trevor on our next drop. And we have more phone numbers lined up in new cities, giving them more options for which direction to go. And I've completed the master contact list." She held up multiple sheets of paper, each page jam packed with names and numbers. "This list is important. It's our lifeline to Trevor and Claire. It keeps us together and organized. No one sees this list, understand? NO ONE. Especially not..." 

Jaclyn paused as she spoke, stunned as she looked towards the back of the room. "...Dr. Frechette."

Everyone else in the large group turned, following her scared eyes, and gradually the room went silent, the music cutting off as Frechette walked forward slowly, a smirk on his face as he entered. Every eye was on the bearded doctor. Lawrence looked like a deer frozen in the headlights, as if he had been caught in something. Frechette seemed to ignore the murmuring passing through the crowd, yet some of it was discernible, whispered voices here and there saying 'the creature'.

Beside Jaclyn, Mike stepped forward dangerously, but Champ stopped him with a simple hand on his shoulder, going over to stand next to Jaclyn. Frechette stopped in front of her, and arrogant sneer on his face as he looked around at the scene. He spoke softly.

"So... this is your little underground rebellion..." The doctor picked up a party drink that had been left on a table beside him, looking at it. "I thought as much. Not much of a secret, is it?"

For a moment, Frechette eyed the contact list Jaclyn held greedily, information Faith hadn't given him.

Jaclyn pulled it slowly away when she noticed his gaze, holding it behind her back

She spoke calmly. "How did you find us?"

"Well, the fliers that were passed out, for one. I also think I saw a poster at an EL stop." Lawrence looked down sheepishly as beside him Tina punched him softly in the arm.

"And yet... you don't see it, do you?" Frechette's voice was low and dangerous as he continued. "You don't realize you are actively breaking the law. Aiding a wanted fugitive. Thwarting a police manhunt. Obstructing a murder investigation. Should I go on? You. All of you are getting in very... very deep here. You could be in serious trouble, do you know that?"

Tina finally spoke up behind Frechette. "Yeah, well you're not the police."

"No. I'm not." Turning to her, Frechette smirked again. "I'm not the police. But if I were to inform the authorities about your activities here, about your 'resistance'... If I were to do that simple, easy, satisfying thing... and they knew about all of this, do you think THEY would care that I'm not the police?"

The crowd murmured softly in the quiet room, most of them looking nervous. The party atmosphere was gone, everyone growing somber. Frechette turned again, looking at them seriously, continuing.

"Didn't really think this through, did you. What if I already did exactly that. What if I brought dozens of policemen with me, and they're waiting outside? You could all be experiencing the joys of the communal holding pen in Chicago's finest lock up before sunrise."

Standing numbly, Lawrence's eyes widened even more, motionless as the drink he had been holding dropped from his hand and splattered to the floor. Frechette smiled, pleased. "I thought about it... Pleasantly. But for some reason that I still can't fathom, I decided against it. So consider yourselves fortunate that I didn't avail you to that particular experience. You should be helping me, not hindering me. I simply can't comprehend why you would risk so much. For a delusional man."

Jaclyn had heard enough. "Because Trevor's helped all of us. In ways you couldn't possibly understand. If you can't see that, then it's your failing, not ours. So yes. Maybe we've been careless. But we still care. The risks of helping both of them doesn't matter. It doesn't change it. What we care about, is returning the favor."

There were several nods of agreement from the crowd, a silent understanding. Shaking his head, Frechette looked at them. "The police could bring you all up on charges of collusion. Conspiracy. And yet you think you're 'helping' Trevor. You're not. You're only prolonging his fugitive status. Making his escape longer. His list of crimes, greater. So go ahead. Laugh. Joke. Throw parties in the guise of 'resistance'. Have your little fun and live in the delusional belief that you're improving Trevor's chances. But deep down, I suspect you know better. Deep down you realize this little movement you've concocted here, isn't helping matters. It's only making them worse."

Jaclyn ignored him, speaking to someone beside her. "Start up the music again." 

As the man moved off, Jaclyn addressed the crowd as the music began to play. "Okay everybody, keep going! Ignore the creature. He can say what he wants, but we're not stopping!" 

Slowly the mood of the room returned, people laughing, making calls, all smiles again.  
Silently Frechette walked through them, heading for the door. He passed a man near a large box, where the new folded cloth bundles were. The man reached in and calmly handed him one. Frustration on his face, Frechette held on to the bundle, unfolding it to reveal a black T-shirt with the words FREE TREVOR printed on it. Frechette simply let it slip from his fingers, dropping it to the floor without another word, before the grim faced doctor left CUPPA JAVA as the music and the party continued behind him.

It was a sparkling Chicago night as Frechette walked out onto the still busy sidewalk underneath an archway of glowing bulbs, pausing. People were were slipping past him happily in the dim glow of the city's lights. But he looked disturbed, looking up at the building behind him. How could they all be so stubborn, so blind? His brow looked troubled by what he had seen, all the obstacles Trevor's friends were throwing in his way. Like the group meeting tonight, the interviews today. And he was also troubled by his continuing visions of Faith. At least the specter of that beautiful dead woman wasn't there, ignored over his shoulder.

Turning, he searched, but she was nowhere in sight, and that left him feeling something he didn't expect... disappointment. All he saw were normal people passing by on the sidewalk. Pedestrians and passing cars. That was it.

Chiding himself with a stern exhalation, Frechette looked back down and pulled the flier from his pocket, still amazed by the audacity of it. Crumpling it up, he dropped it to the floor, walking off at a brisk, angry pace, trying not to think of the 'resistance'. But more importantly, trying not to think about the woman that was constantly in his thoughts.

Frechette disappeared in the distance, a lone figure in the crowd.

Surrounded by all the bustling activity inside CUPPA JAVA, Jaclyn looked introspective as she stood quietly on the stage, thinking about what Frechette had said. She watched for several seconds, somber, thinking about what they were doing. Smiling, Champ came up to her, but he paused when he saw her serious expression.

"Jaclyn? What's wrong?"

And finally, she came to a conclusion. Her face was still serious but brightened slightly as she looked into his eyes. She touched Champ's arm and gave it a grateful squeeze. Moving past him she went to the front of the stage and addressed the crowd again over the din.

"Okay everyone, listen up!" The group quieted somewhat as they all turned their attention to her. Resolute, she sighed, knowing this was the right thing to do and deciding to go through with it.

"Okay everybody. Change of tactics..."

The next morning, without warning, the complete contact list and numerous other papers slammed loudly down onto the finely polished surface of Frechette's desk. His hand cautiously reached out and picked up the list, morning sunlight falling on it like it was a treasure, streaming through the window at his back. Slowly Frechette lifted it up to his completely stunned face, staring at it in amazement. He couldn't believe what he was holding, a list of every person who was helping Trevor. Contacts, phone numbers, the order they were going to be called, possible hiding places. With this information, Trevor could be in custody within the next few days, maybe hours. Incredulously, he looked up into the face of the person who had brought it to him.

Jaclyn stood there before his desk, unashamed. She looked at him proudly for several seconds.

"We'll talk to you. We'll give you any information you want."

"Where's Trevor?"

"Any information but that. You wanted us to talk to you. Freely. Without obstruction. Wanted to know who's involved. The group agreed last night. It's all there. We're willing to talk. If you are truly willing to listen, truly listen, to what everyone has to say."

Frechette couldn't understand this. "Why?"

Jaclyn looked at him. "Something you said last night. You could have turned us in, but you didn't. Made me think that maybe you're willing to hear our side of it."

Frechette paused for several moments, still stunned by her bravado, looking up into her resolute eyes. "You play a dangerous game... How do you know I won't just turn this information over to the police?"

"I don't. But talk to them. The people on that list. You'll see what kind of man Trevor is."

"Why this gamble? To be honest, even I don't know what I'm going to do with this."

"I know. That's exactly why. We're gambling that you'd be willing to listen, first."

Frechette looked at the list again, thinking of how good he would look with the police if he turned the information over. But then he thought about how much more information he could get himself from cooperative interviews instead of obstructive ones, accomplishing things on his own. And some small part of him was curious to see what drove these people, what drove their loyalty to a man which he saw as completely delusional, but who they obviously didn't see the same way. His curiosity finally won out.

"Fine then. Interviews. With FULL cooperation."

"Yes." Jaclyn exhaled happily.

"So then... when?"

"How about now?"

Stepping back, Jaclyn opened his office door. A nervous looking Lawrence was waiting there, followed by Tina behind him, followed by a glowering Mike, a yawning, half asleep Nick, and several others waiting in line patiently, stacked well beyond his outer office.

Frechette blinked. He couldn't believe how much they were all willing to go through to help Trevor, and for a moment in his amazement, his harsh face seemed almost touched by their devotion, as ridiculous as it seemed.

Still trying to grasp that this was really happening, Frechette pushed the button to talk to his receptionist.

"Madeline, cancel all my appointments..."

END OF PAGE 5

Author's note: Page 5 was supposed to be longer, but I decided to move the rest to page six. :)


	6. Falling Home pg 6

PAGE SIX

Frechette felt something strange was happening to him.

He was in his office, listening. Simply listening and taking notes, hardly asking any questions at all as he interviewed the long line of volunteers Jaclyn had brought with her to talk about Trevor. The air seemed soft on his skin, calm all around him, sunlight falling warmly on his shoulders as it poured through the window behind him.

As the stern faced doctor listened his pen moved fast on his notepad, jotting down contacts, names. But slowly, things began to change. Minute by minute, interview by interview, the doctor's harsh expression was slowly turning into one of wonder. He was listening to so many people that all of it was starting to blur soundlessly together in his mind, their words echoing, mingling. Faces, stories, feelings, all passing through his thoughts as one by one, a different person came into his office.  
Each one entered alone, unique in their experiences, gliding silently through his office door and into the austere interior within. He held onto the images of them standing up, sitting down, talking to him, those impressions almost merging into one another. Each of them was there to tell a story. A story about Trevor and how he had helped them find something vital, something precious in their lives. More than just companionship, more than just sex. Even more than love. It was as if Trevor had helped them to see themselves, helped them free themselves for the first time.

Blinking, Frechette realized Trevor did the same thing he did as a therapist. Or tried to do, anyway. And as he listening to what they said, his expensive pen pausing more and more over his notes as he became lost in their stories, he began to realize with increasing clarity one simple truth. Trevor did it better.  
As a doctor, had he ever helped anyone to the extent Trevor had helped these people? He wasn't so sure now. The faces continued to change, blurring together as people came and went from the long line waiting outside, their mouths moving silently as they spoke. The angle of the sun visibly shifted across his back as the day progressed. He wrote and listened, a sparkle of amazement growing in his eyes.

That same, soundless serenity seemed to cover what appeared to be an endless two lane road, rolling calmly closer, silent in the desert. Yellow stripes and dark asphalt slipped past underneath, the road stretching gently down a slope to a horizon of red, rocky formations, dry bushes and cactus plants sliding peacefully by.

Above, the sky was warm and blue, a glaring bright sun bracketed by puffy white clouds floating in the dry midday air. The flat lower edges of the clouds were dark blue with waiting rain. Through all the wide open spaces, the sun was illuminating the desert below as everything moved gracefully past to either side of the road. Everything was silent, as if safely isolated from the rest of the world, simple and beautiful.

The shiny black hood of the mustang convertible came into view, the road still sliding past beneath it. Sitting behind the steering wheel, Trevor was driving them through the remote region, the sun's glow bright on his face. The air rushing over them was warm and full. Looking over at Claire sitting beside him, Trevor watched her dark hair dance on the breeze as they sped forward, red desert rock passing behind her. They had left the snow capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains glinting in the sunshine hours behind them. Now they headed deeper into that isolated part of the desert. As he watched her, Claire's eyes were on the road before them, lost in her own thoughts.

Looking ahead again, Trevor couldn't explain what he was feeling. Both he and Claire were letting go of the stresses of the past few days, even if only for a few hours. Ahead, the road was turning around a large rocky outcropping, before dropping again in a gentle incline. And as the new vista opened up before them, Trevor pause at what he saw, looking ahead in amazement as he drove.

In the distance, dark thin streaks of rain were falling from underneath the clumps of floating white clouds, finally releasing their moisture onto the shadows of thirsty desert beneath them. Between the clouds, the sun was angling down in golden shafts, beams sliding across the desert. But more startling than that, everywhere the rain had already passed, almost magically, a sea of unexpected new green tinge had sprouted up under the blue of the open sky. The field of color was alive and new over the browns of the dead desert plain. It was a wide, amazing image of newborn growth, beautiful and serene.

One by one, they kept coming into Frechette's office, and he realized he didn't have to ask too many questions. They were all very forthcoming, willing to talk, their words sincere. He looked at the man before him, listening to his tale. It was Lawrence, and he was different this time, no longer reluctant or evasive. Instead Lawrence was speaking honestly, the words pouring out of him without condition.

"It was a tough time in my life. I guess I hit rock bottom. But Trevor kept bumping me forward, telling me not to give up..."  
Suddenly Mike had replaced Lawrence in the seat before Frechette's desk, and his demeanor had changed too. He smiled as he remembered, his words soothing, his movements animated. "And when I finally listened to Trevor and took that leap--... I mean, it was just amazing. And for the first time in all of my life, my life seemed... full of possibilities."

Still amazed by what was laid out before them, Trevor looked over at Claire as they silently drove through the desert. He saw Claire's eyes sparkling happily at the beautiful vista of vibrant color stretching to the desert horizon. He could feel it too, being there with her. With a smile he looked back at the amazing sight, the two of them suddenly filled with hope.

In Frechette's office, a young blond woman was speaking now. "Trevor was great. He helped me through it. Didn't let me wallow for too long. He gave me a shoulder to cry on. But after, he was pushing me back out there, telling me to get back in the game..."

"I had never even though of Lawrence that way," Tina was explaining to Frechette with a smile, the previous blond woman gone. "Until somehow, Trevor planted this thought, this possibility in my head. Wasn't too long after that before my heart followed. Trevor helped me see past my preconceptions of how the world had to be. To see the possibilities of what could be."

A thirthy-ish businessman had replaced Tina in the chair, a knowing smile on his face. "I mean, I didn't know where this connection Trevor had started was going, you know? But what surprised me was that because of him, for the first time I wasn't afraid to find out. I mean, she could really be the one."

Claire looked over at Trevor in the driver's seat of the convertible, the amazing image of the green tinged desert passing behind her in the warm sunlight. She felt happy, but a question was bouncing in her mind.

"Trevor... what's it feel like to really fly?"

Laughing, Trevor simply kept looking ahead.

"It feels... amazing."

Another woman with long, curly light brown hair and kind eyes was seated across from Frechette, answering. "I mean, now that I'm with Jim, it's just... wow. It's just like... I'm floating."

Thinking about Claire's question as he drove, Trevor looked over at her, the sunlight bright all around them as the woman's voice in Frechette's office continued to speak.

"_Like gravity didn't matter to me anymore..._"

Finally Trevor got an idea, freeing one hand from the steering wheel, he tapped the top edge of Claire's seat in the convertible as the car continued to drive through the verdant desert.

"Get up here, Claire."

"Really?" she asked, wondering what he meant.

"It's okay. I'll hold you." Smiling but looking a little reluctant, Claire rose out of her seat as red rock walls passed behind her. Cautiously she positioned herself and sat on the top headrest of her car seat, feeling exposed by the open air around her precarious position as they drove on. She gripped the seat tightly with her hands to either side of her legs. With his one free hand, Trevor held her ankle gently, trying to overcome her reluctance. Claire felt very high above the mustang, her hands no letting go yet.

The woman's voice speaking to Frechette could be heard again.

"_I really was floating. Like I was stepping up, rising, spreading my wings..._"  
Looking away from the road for a moment, Trevor gave her an encouraging look. And slowly, Claire let go of her hard grip, Trevor still gently holding her ankle. Tentative, she lifted her arms, spreading to either side, growing braver by the moment.

The unseen woman continued to speak. "_And just like that, in the space of a single heartbeat, I was soaring..._"

Claire couldn't believe what she felt, perched in the air above the rest of the car as everything else slipped by around her. She felt the warm wind flowing over her face, nothing but open spaces to either side as they sped down the black asphalt road, her arms spread out, unguarded, unburdened. And in that exhilarating flash of freedom, Claire couldn't help herself, finally laughing.

There was a twinkle in Lawrence's eye as he smiled at Frechette. "I feel alive now. The sun is warmer. The sky brighter. Everything feels alive again."

With her arms spread, Claire simply reveled in the sensation of everything that was happening, the red and green desert surrounded her as it passed in the bright sunshine. Behind her, distant falling rain caught a twinkle of sunlight, and unexpected rainbow arching in and out of view in the otherwise dry desert air. With a smile, Claire tilted her head back, enjoying the sun's warmth on her face. And closing her eyes, her arms outstretched, she flew.

Another man was in Frechette's office, a grateful look in his eyes. "When I really think of Trevor, all I can say is... 'Thank you'."

"Thank you..." a red headed woman seemed to agree.

"Thank you." Lawrence nodded.

"Thank you." Tina said with a smile.

Carefully, Claire dropped back into her seat with a contented sigh, her 'flight' over, but still with a sense of exhilaration in her chest. Catching he breath, she looked over at Trevor as he drove, grateful for what he had given her.

"Thank you, Trevor." she said simply.

Pausing for several moments in his office, Frechette didn't know what to say, his pen still in his hand but now motionless over half completed notes he had abandoned writing earlier in the process. Slowly, he put the pen down, looking over his polished desk at Jaclyn, the last person to come in after a long day of interviews.

"Thank you, Jaclyn. I think I'm beginning to understand."

Claire smiled at Trevor as they drove. "I think it's time I returned the favor, Trevor."

He looked at her, blinking. "Return the favor? How?"

Her eyes glinted wickedly as she kept her secret.

"You'll see. Pull over, Trevor. I'm driving."

The sun was finally starting to lower past midday, green tree leaves waving gently in the soft breeze. A simple dirt road cut through the trees lining either side, moving up to the two story house with a covered wooden porch along its front. The small, isolated dwelling was the same one where Trevor and Claire had stayed for a night, the Bennett household, serene in the quiet countryside.

Suddenly there was the scraping roar of tires on dirt, and a police cruiser came into view, moving down the dirt road and leaving am expanding line of dust kicked up in its wake, floating on the air. The police cruiser drove further away, heading for the homestead at the end of the road, in no apparent hurry. When it reach the building, the cruiser turned slightly, pulling parallel with the front porch and coming to a stop.

After a few moments, there was two dim thumps of car doors closing on either side of the vehicle, as two uniformed police officers got out and shut their doors again. Birds chirped in the trees, content in the early afternoon light. After a few moments a man and a woman came out of the front door of the homestead, having seen the policemen's arrival, curious as to what was happening.

The two policemen moved up the wooden steps, addressing the Bennetts politely. Although nothing could be heard in the distance, the small group stayed on the porch as calmly, the police began to ask the Bennetts some questions.

Claire had taken over the driving duties, speeding the agile convertible along a small dirt road, over and around various small desert rises. They were driving along, apparently in the middle of nowhere. Trevor was sitting beside her, wondering where they were going, but he didn't question her. She only repeated what she had already said, that she was going to 'return the favor'. Claire seemed certain in her direction. All around the speeding car, the dry land was brown and flat, covered in brittle shrubs and small weeds sprouting from the dirt as far as his eyes could see. Far off in the distance were the hazy reddish brown rocky heights, leaving wide open spaces of dry desert air around them. The cloudless blue sky still stretched in the heat above.  
As Trevor looked into the sky, his eyes caught something metallic glinting brightly, high above in that blue. The object turned, and Trevor realized it was a small two person prop plane, circling, swooping.

Claire saw the object too, smiling. "Knew we were close. Turn off's around here somewhere."

Finally an even smaller road appeared to one side, and she pulled the car off the road they were on, following the smaller road into the dry desert, leaving dirt slowly rising in her wake. Looking past the front windshield, Trevor saw a a tiny airfield bouncing towards them, safely tucked in that remote desert expanse. The entire facility was little more than a large metal shack that served as a hanger, and a small administrative shack outside. Stretching into the distance away from that was a small, worn looking, light gray asphalt airstrip that had seen better days. Slowing the mustang down between the two buildings, Claire stopped the car in the desert quiet, the engine rumbling softly, before she turned it off. Trevor and Claire got out on either side, looking around, the sun hot on their faces. Calmly, Claire took his hand, before she called out into the air.

"Samson!"

Walking out of a small door in the side of the metal hangar, an older man came over to them. Seen dimly through the open doorway was the edge of another two person prop plane under repair in the shadows of the hangar, obscuring something white behind. The man approaching them was tanned and muscular despite his age, strong bulging arms covered with tattoos, wiping black engine oil from his hands with a rag. But despite his imposing demeanor, his eyes were kind, smiling at them as he approached.

"Clarinette," he said happily, his voice as gruff as his appearance, like sandpaper on wood. "Oh Claire, how have you been?"

"Good to see you, Sammy." Claire hugged the older man, obviously knowing him.

Like a worried father, the gruff airplane mechanic looked her over. "My god, Clarinette, how long has it been since I laid eyes on you?"

"Well, since... before Jack died." Claire replied somberly. She turned to wards Trevor. "Samson, I'd like you to meet Trevor Hale. The love of my life..." she said with a smile.

Samson gave Trevor a strong, welcoming handshake. "Nice to meet you, Trevor."

"Hey man, likewise," he said back.

"Trevor, this is Sam Conathan. Jack's father."

Trevor looked down, remembering Jack Conathan, Claire's pilot boyfriend. Reaching out, Trevor gave Sam another consolatory hug. "Hey Sammy, sorry about what happened."

"Yeah..." The old man said, surprised, but appreciating the gesture. "The pilot lesson business hasn't been the same here since he left for Chicago. Not as many customers lately. And then I heard about the accident... well, at least I know Jack died doing what he loved." He looked at Claire. "Miss you out here too, Claire. Sorry things didn't work out with you and Jack. He' always been... flighty. How you holding up?"

"I've been better. Things are pretty hectic right now."

"Yeah, I heard the news. But you know, you're both always welcome here, Clarinette."

"Thanks, Sammy." she replied gratefully, "We're not staying long. Just need to lay low for a few hours. Wait for night before heading into Vegas. We have a contact meeting us there. Where's Benny?"

"Oh, he's up in Number Three, checking out the engine repairs I finished on it. Still following in his big brother's footsteps. Used to be Jack's favorite plane before... he left."

"Yeah... I'm glad I could see you again. Sammy. I was wondering... Think I could stretch my wings a bit?"

The older man gave her a knowing look. "I think that could be arranged. Let me go inside." He disappeared into the hanger with a smile.  
Trevor turned to her, the two of them alone. "Planning to fly us out of here, Claire?"

"No. Training planes don't have the range. And landing at a major airport would draw too much unwanted attention. Just waiting for nightfall. Enough time to stretch my wings and return the favor."

Trevor blinked. "Stretch your wings? What do you mean?"

The inside of the hanger was black, covered in shadows, until suddenly, with a whir of a small electrical motor, the main hanger doors began to slide to either side, opening onto a desert vista, the shiny black mustang parked on the asphalt behind, three figures standing there, outlined against the blue sky. The trio walked in, Trevor looking around. The moved deeper into the echoing hanger, the air cooler than the heat outside. Samson turned to Claire, pleased.

"Benny's on his way down. I'll go get her ready."

With that, the older mechanic walked away, ignoring the two person prop plane he had been working on, going past it. Trevor was still not sure what was happening. "Claire, what's going on?"

She smiled walking past the two person prop plane and guiding Trevor deeper into the hanger. "Just returning the favor, Trevor."

As they stepped forward, the prop plane slid past to reveal a slender white vehicle behind it, its lines smooth, delicate and beautiful.

Trevor looked at it in awe. It was a glider, simple and amazing. It had no engine, no props, nothing to distract from the sense of flight, the sense of freedom waiting to be released. Looking over, he saw a name written on the side of the plane in fancy cursive, _Claire_.

She smiled proudly at him. "Jack gave me glider lessons. Named the glider after me."

Smiling, Trevor was still watching the glider in wonder.

Claire took his hand, giving it a squeeze as she looked into his eyes.

"Time to fly, Trevor..."

The blue desert sky stretched full and blue above, alive with possibilities in the warm sunshine that glowed brightly down. Below, a small prop plane raced across an cracked dried out runway with a barely perceptible black line connecting it to the graceful shape of a pearly white glider being pulled behind. Both were small in the vast desert, gaining speed.

Inside the bouncing glider cockpit, sunlight fell through the clear canopy onto Trevor's smiling face, his heart pumping as the glider picked up speed, bouncing, as if straining impatiently to go back to its natural place up in the deep sky. Behind him, Claire reached from around his sides to the controls, her breath on his cheek as she smiled as well, ready to control the glider once they were airborne.

Trevor held his breath... and suddenly, after the shaking stopped, they were in the sky, pulled by the small black cable stretching from the prop plane flying before them. Carefully they rose higher, Trevor feeling alive as the sun shifted through the canopy. Soon they were high above the desert, and Claire reached past Trevor to key the radio.

"Ok, Benny. Let her go..."

The cable dropped out of sight as the small plane swerved slowly away. And then... they were FLYING. Exhilaration filled the inside of his chest as the glider tilted over the desert far below, the late afternoon sky a beautiful clear blue around them. He felt gravity turn around them, felt the delicate glider swim through the sky like a dancer. And finally, Trevor couldn't help it.

He laughed.

"A touch of home." she said. Claire smiled behind him, her hands accompanying his on the glider controls. "Feel familiar?"

His eyes sparkled happily. "You have no idea..."

"Wanna try it?" Claire nodded to the controls.

"Oh yeah." He nodded enthusiastically.

Claire let them go, and Trevor took the glider controls on his own. Cautiously, she started to speak. "Now be careful with the stick, it's very--"

Confident, Trevor dropped the glider into a steep dive, laughing. Claire held onto the seat as they increased speed, the ground racing towards them until he pulled the flying machine gracefully back up. They now soaring higher, and higher, flipping the glider vertical until she worried they would stall in mid air. But like he had been doing it all his life, Trevor turned the glider expertly on one slender wing tip as it paused, pointing the nose down until they flew graceful down once again in a smooth arc. Claire seemed to relax, exhaling when it looked like Trevor knew what he was doing. Her eyes were amazed at the maneuvers he was performing, effortlessly guiding the glider like he had been flying forever. Maybe he had been.

The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon, painting a beautiful swath of colors before them, and she smiled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the golden light flowing on both of them. He kept the glider aloft longer than anyone Claire had ever seen, like a professional dancing on air. Trevor continued to fly for several minutes longer than she thought was possible, until she sensed a change.  
"Trevor what is it?"

His hands seemed impatient as the glider slowed more and more, its momentum now almost over. "Not enough control..."

His eyes shifted past the canopy, the sun shining at them, and he seemed to want to soar beyond the simple glider that was encasing them. And almost without thought, his hand slowly reaching for the canopy latch, already rising out of his seat--

With a smile, Claire placed her hand over his, stopping him. She spoke gently, feeling the pull inside him. "I don't have wings, Trevor..."

Trevor seemed to come out of a daze, looking away from the sky at her beside him. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it gratefully.

"Thank you for this, Claire."

"You're welcome, Trevor."

The sun was still a few hours away from sunset, but the sky was already a beautiful glowing red, as outlined against it, the slender outline of the glider slowly turned for the runway on the desert floor below.

"Ok... thanks, Dwight."

Standing on a noisy Chicago sidewalk in the late afternoon light, the assistant to the police detective pressed a button and folded his cell phone shut. Walking over to where the head detective was finishing up an interview with a shop owner outside his establishment, the assistant looked a down at the notepad in his hands where he had written down information from the phone call he had been on, still on the case to find Trevor and Claire.

The two men in suits stood there on the sidewalk as cars sped by on the road, drowning out what the head detective was saying to the nervous looking man before him. Finally the gruff detective thanked the shop owner and turned away, a frustrated look on his face. As the shop owner went back inside, the older policeman scowled at his younger assistant, already not liking what he knew the young man was about to say.

The younger detective breathed in, steadying himself, but still feeling confident. "Ready for this..? Just got off the phone with the unit we sent out to the Bennett household."

The older detective's face soured even more. "And?"

"And... both Bennetts claim neither of them have seen or heard from Mr. Hale or Mrs. Allen since before they moved out of Chicago. But after when the detectives looked around... they noticed a black mustang registered to Mr. Bennett's name was missing. When pressed about it, the Bennetts had no explanation. They assumed it must have been stolen."

"Yeah... right."

The assistant nodded, holding up his notepad. "Took down the make, model, and license plates... so we can put out an APB on the car."

The harsh looking detective shook his head, then bobbed it towards the store front beside them. "Same story here. Yet another person who claims to have not seen or helped them in any way. But this guy was nervous. I know he was hiding something, like the others. And he told me something else... He's already been interviewed... by Dr. Frechette."

"Another one?" The younger man sounded incredulous. "What's that make, seven outside interviews he's conducted now?"  
"Nine," The detective corrected him, his frustration simmering angrily in his words. "Frechette's been conducting an investigation of his own. Just like I suspected... the good doctor's been holding out on us."

The assistant looked at him for a long cold moment. "So what do we do?"

The detective paused as he stood on the noisy sidewalk, thinking. Slowly the sun finished slipping below the edge of the city's skyline, dropping beneath the horizon and slowly darkening the sidewalk around them. The detective looked at his assistant, now a shadow in the dim light.

"Which judge's got the docket tonight?" he asked.

"Flanderson..." the young man answered.

"Yeah... He'll do. I've had just about enough of this. Time to force the good doctor's hand..."

It was early twilight, the mustang's now dust covered black finish was reflecting the delicate swath of colors from the remaining daylight above, purple and blue. The silent, empty road stretched through a dry wide plain towards a cluster of lights set against the darkening horizon. Claire was asleep in the passenger seat beside him as Trevor drove and looked ahead. Everything seemed to have settled down, quiet and peaceful. But there was also an alertness in the air around him, as if something were waiting to happen. Trevor couldn't shake a feeling of unease, blinking to himself, stretching his shoulders, feeling the tension there.

Ahead, something approached unexpectedly. It was a small wooden structure, alone in the silence. Slowing the car, Trevor watched it pass by. It was a small white cross made of wood, pushed into the dirt beside the road. And then, it was followed by another. And another, nothing else around for miles in the flat desert. There were flowers and notes clustered around the base of each, faded and forgotten. It suddenly caught up with Trevor that these were memorials, markers where someone had died in a car accident on the very same road he was driving down. It seemed surreal, nothing else around for miles. As the small shadowed crosses passed into the dim light behind, a chill went through Trevor's body at the ominous sign.

He looked over at Claire sleeping, seeing how beautiful she was. He knew that despite everything, he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. The bright blinking city lights of Las Vegas got closer up ahead. Forgetting his unease, Trevor smiled instead, carefully reaching over to touch Claire's face and wake her.

"We're here, Claire..."

Harshly pushing back the black night sky, a sea of gaudy lights strobed and blinked all around Trevor and Claire as they drove the shiny black convertible down the main Las Vegas strip. There were cars and people everywhere. Claire seemed nervous, despite knowing they had timed this to enter at night and be less conspicuous, to blend in as two more tourists. But still feeling suspicious, she carefully read each passing street sign, searching.

Trevor kept an eye out as well, watching for police cruisers. But by the grace of the gods, there were none in sight. At an intersection, he turned the car slowly, trying not to be distracted by the bustle of the sparkling electronic display. They were supposed to meet their next contact somewhere in this chaos, if they could find the spot.

"Turn here, Trevor" Claire said. "I think we're close."

Trevor turned the steering wheel again, reflections sliding colorfully across the car's hood, the engine growing louder as they left the hectic activity of the main drag, driving onto a darker street behind. After a minute or so, he pulled into a small parking lot set before the lit front glass of a tiny, out of the way coffee and doughnut shop.  
There was a woman outside, waiting there patiently.

Claire looked down at her watch. "Right on time..."

Trevor pulled the car up beside the woman, and with a smile she called playfully out to them. "So... want a date?"

"Hi, Susan." Claire replied gratefully, sounding tired as she got out of the passenger side of the mustang, moving up and giving the woman a hug as Trevor got out on his side as well.

"Susan!" Trevor looked over at her in surprise. She was the woman who had received a heart transplant, and he hadn't seen her in a long while. Was he going to run into all his bead matches on this trip?

"Hello, Trevor. Glad you found me. I brought you guys some more money and supplies from the group, and a place to stay..."

Trevor also gave the woman a excited hug, genuinely pleased she was there, growing more animated as he stood beside her on the darkened sidewalk with Claire. "It's good to see you, Susan. My 'perfect match'. How have you been?" he asked happily.

"Good. Happy. Alive." Her eyes sparkled at them. "I, umm... moved here to Vegas after Chicago. Jaclyn contacted me yesterday. Seems more out going than I remember her. The Resistance is going strong it seems. But let's go inside. You must be starving."

It was a few hours later when Trevor and Susan were walking side by side outside the coffee shop. Several steps behind them, Claire was on Susan's cell phone, discussing their next move through a complicated set of cross call contacts Jaclyn had set up. For the moment, Trevor and Susan were alone, the street before the coffee shop silent, only an occasional car driving by. Still they kept well away from it, walking in the shadows.

"So, the FTR arranged a place for you to stay tonight," Susan was explaining again.

Trevor nodded, looking down. "What, some cardboard box in a back alley somewhere?"

"No, a rooftop luxury hotel suite on the main strip, actually."

Surprised, Trevor looked at her, realizing she wasn't kidding. He was impressed. "How'd you manage that?"

"It's usually saved for performers, musician types. It's open for you and Claire to use, courtesy of one Sophie Gill. It was already reserved for her this week, but she left early."

"Sophie was here?" Trevor asked, remembering Champ's recording artist friend, thinking of road trips and stretch limos.

"Yeah, but she cleared out. Went to her next stop early with Brian. Don't worry. The suite's set up for reclusive rock star types who don't want to be seen. Private elevator. Underground limo access. No one will see you."

"Yeah..." Trevor grew quite, thinking of all that had happened. He and Susan continued to walk, the mustang parked far behind them. Claire followed them several steps back, voice quiet as she talked on the cell phone. Trevor couldn't help but wonder how much his life had changed, being on the run with Claire, having to hide from place to place.

Susan looked at him. "Still going west?"

"Yeah. I feel it's where I'm supposed to go."

Susan seemed to sense his mood, glancing over. "Crazy times, huh?"

He nodded. "Life can throw you for a loop sometimes."

"I know..." She kept walking along beside him. "Makes you realize things. Makes you realize how short this is. Life, I mean. Like the short time I spent with Dan? It was so worth it. Despite what happened, I'm glad I knew him. Glad I loved him. Glad I took that chance, thanks to you. And he's still here," she touched her chest fondly, "With me."

Trevor looked sadly away. "Well, you know more than anyone. Not everything ends well for people who are with me. Look at right now. I'm a wanted fugitive. Claire's on the run with me, not knowing where we're going, or how it ends."

"Who says it ends?" She smiled, still walking. "Doesn't matter, Trevor. That's what you showed me. You can't let the world hold you back, no matter how much it wants to. You have to grab hold of your own life and not let go."

"Yeah? How do I do that."

They were approaching a smaller building, brightly lit with blue and white neon on a garish peaked roof, alone on the darkened street. Susan looked at him. "You do it by taking the opportunities, when they're there. Regardless of what the world around you wants instead. You do that by following the only thing that matters."

Knowingly, Susan looked over at the bright building in the distance they were standing in front of. Trevor looked over as if seeing it for the first time. A neon sign flashed, reading FOLLOW YOU HEART. Trevor stopped, thinking, wondering if somehow Susan had planned this. He looked over at her, a question in his eyes.

She smiled back at him, her face lit dimly in the shadows by the small nearby building's neon lights, a certainty in her expression. "Someone once told me, you can't live life like you're going to die. If there's one thing I've learned from that, Trevor, it's... don't wait."

Looking down, Trevor allowed himself to imagine, to dream of the what ifs. And suddenly, it all seemed so simple, a weight falling off his shoulders. It was so clear now, so obvious he that he didn't know why he had never seen it before. He felt a wave pass through him, washing away his doubts. Suddenly it was as if his soul had been freed.

Somewhere in the quiet Vegas night, an acoustic guitar began to play as Trevor looked back at Susan, his eyes sparkling with sudden joy. Accompanying the unseen guitar, a man's voice began to sing, floating over everything.

_I won't talk, I won't breathe,  
I won't move until you finally see  
that you belong with me..._

Trevor suddenly turned, an eager hop in his step as he walked back to where Claire was trailing them as she spoke on Susan's cell phone. Coming up to her, Trevor bent the cell phone shut, interrupting her call. Claire blinked at him in surprise, not understanding his sudden change in demeanor.

The guitar continued to play, the man continued to sing.  
_You might think, I don't look,  
but deep inside, the corner of my mind  
I'm attached to you..._

Before Claire could ask anything about what was happening to him, Trevor rushed forward and kissed her deeply, holding his body against hers as he took her into his arms. Claire was confused for a moment at his sudden embrace, but then she couldn't help but fall into the kiss with him, closing her eyes as her arms wrapped around his back in a loving caress, leaning closer. Several steps away, Susan looked away with a smile, swaying happily.

_I'm weak, it's true, because I'm afraid to know the answer  
Do you want me too? Because my heart keeps falling faster..._

Claire felt her whole body swoon, catching her breath as Trevor pulled back, breaking the long, passionate kiss. Gently, he took her hands as she tried to get her bearings, guiding her eagerly after him, moving past Susan. Claire didn't understand, but for the moment she was too exhilarated to care, following him towards the illumination ahead.

_I've waited all my life, to cross this line,  
to the only thing that's true..._

"Trevor, what are you doing?"

His face beamed as he looked at her, as if everything finally made sense. "Something I should have done a long time ago..."

Still holding her hand, he guided her towards the brightly lit building ahead.

_So I will not hide, it's time to try,  
anything to be with you..._

Suddenly the two of them were dark figures in the distance, outlined against the lights. Susan was watching off to one side. Trevor turned and faced Claire, shadowed against the neon draped form of a small out of the way quickie wedding chapel, covered in blue and white glowing bars as another sign continued to flash FOLLOW YOUR HEART. Claire glanced at the building, shocked, before she watched Trevor slowly drop down to one knee before her. The acoustic guitar music still played softly. Kneeling in the distance, Trevor's words were too far away to hear as he looked up into Claire's eyes. She looked even more shocked at what he was saying, but it was only for moment. Then she was nodding happily, laughing as he rose and took her into his arms, swinging her around in absolute bliss.

_All my life I've waited, this is true..._

Susan opened the door to the brightly lit interior of the busy coffee shop with a smile, calling happily in.

"Hey... You guys want to attend a wedding?"

Inside the main room of the tiny wedding chapel, a red neon outline of a heart glowed near the crest of the peaked ceiling, placed over a podium underneath. The 'minister' smiled kindly having done this so many times before. Trevor waited nervously by the podium, looking towards the back of the room, a huge smile on his face.

But when the door opened opened, it wasn't Claire, it was a crowd of talkative, happy patrons from the coffee shop, some still holding coffee cups and doughnuts, guided in by Susan to fill the empty rows of seats. Trevor looked at Susan with a question.

With a pleased expression, she shrugged. "God of love deserves a bigger audience than just one person if he's getting married, don't you think?"

Trevor laughed, nodding at her. "Thank you, Susan."

"You're welcome."

Trevor straightened his hair, fussing over his ordinary clothing as he waited. He exhaled, happier than he had ever been. The suddenly the door at the back of the room opened again. The guitar continued to play over the scene, but now it was joined by a soft cello in the background , as the male voice continued to sing.

_You don't know, what you do,  
Every time you walk into the room,  
I'm afraid to move..._

Trevor paused, his jaw dropping, stopping in wonder.

Looking into his eyes, Claire smiled, walking into the chapel as all eyes turned to her. She was wearing a different blouse, simple blue silk. In her hands was a bouquet of white flowers, nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow... she was absolutely stunning. She looked like an angel, gliding forward, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, happiness exuding from her like a light brighter than any sun in the sky. Slowly, she came up to him, reaching out. Gently she took his hand into hers, holding it tenderly, pausing it there in mid air with a slight squeeze. A spark flashed through him, feeling amazingly alive.

_I'm weak, it's true,  
I'm just scared to know the ending..._

The minister looked at them expectantly, waiting to start the process, his pen in hand over some forms. "Names?"  
Trevor paused thinking about how much he should answer. But then it came to him.

"Trevor Claire." he said altogether. "My full name is Trevor Claire."

She smiled at him, her eyes beaming. The minister blinked, as if remembering something, something that should be familiar. Then he turned to her.

"And your name, miss?"

She squeezed his hand slightly.

"Claire Trevor."

_Do you see me too?  
Do you even know you've met me..._

Still trying to rekindle his memory, the 'minister' finally just pushed it out of his mind. "Okay. Shall we begin?"  
For Trevor, the rest of that night was like he had lost any sense of time beyond what happened. It was like the only thing that existed, that ever existed, were those next few hours.

Images passed together in a mosaic, the music growing louder as orchestra strings joined the cello and the male singer. The 'minister' spoke, Trevor and Claire kissed, and suddenly they were husband and wife, and it was like they always had been. The crowd rose and applauded, some giving yells of approval, throwing white coffee house sugar packets instead of rice, as Trevor and Claire walked happily back down the aisle. The sugar filled packets fell on their shoulders, some cascading down their smiling faces, followed by rose petals someone had found, filling the air.

Several champagne bottles popped behind the happy crowd at the same time, foam spurting up. A real party was starting in the room. Trevor and Claire, the happy couple, staying, mingling with new friends. Images blurred, women giving Claire congratulatory hugs, Trevor laughing as he spoke with several people. Claire looked over, smiling, when she saw Trevor guide a reluctant looking man over to the woman he had obviously been watching the whole ceremony. She nodded, realizing that was Trevor. It was they way he should be. Love's greatest advocate until the end. No weddings followed after, the chapel theirs as the music continued to play, orchestra strings joining in now as more instruments playing along, even as more people came in and joined their celebration.

_I've waited all my life to cross this line,  
to the only thing that's true...  
So I will not hide, it's time to try,  
anything to be with you,  
All my life I've waited, this is true..._

Outside the small wedding chapel, as the cheering coffee house crowd followed Trevor and Claire out still tossing sugar packets, a stretch limo waited, Sophie Gill's limo. Susan had called ahead. Happily, Trevor and Claire got in, pausing inside. There were two champagne glass and a bottle on ice, a note left behind long before they had even entered Vegas, which simply read _HAVE FUN YOU GUYS. LOVE, SOPHIE AND BRIAN._. Touched, Trevor and Claire looked at each other in the quiet of the limo. Suddenly they were truly alone, kissing, just the two of them.

Outside, the crowd cheered as the limo pulled away, sugar packets and rose petals sliding off it's roof as it disappeared into the night. Champagne in his hand, the 'minister' applauded with the rest, still trying to remember what he had forgotten, taking yet another drink as he went back into the chapel with the others to continue with the party.

_I know when I go, I'll be on my way to you,  
The way that's true..._

As the music still played, the limo pulled into the dark underground garage. The car door opened, and no noticed. The private elevator door shut, and no on saw. Claire walked forward, guiding Trevor by the hand into the dim, luxurious sweet, the glittering bright expanse of Las Vegas glowing in the night beyond the wide glass windows. In the shadows, Claire looked into Trevor's eyes, looking for the same reluctance she had seen after the first time they had made love. It wasn't there, his eyes certain, unafraid. And in that moment, they knew. This was right. Slowly they kissed, tender, as outlined against the dazzling city lights of Las Vegas, they began to remove each other's clothing. As the music played, there was no other sounds, clothing gently falling to the carpet like rose petals.

Trevor and Claire gave into each other, proceeding without hesitation, kissing each other, skin lit by the dim light coming through the window, as they slowly dropped out of sight, leaving only the city lights beyond twinkling like stars, witnessing.

_I've waited all my life to cross this line,  
to the only thing that's true...  
So I will not hide, it's time to try,  
anything to be with you,_

It was the next morning and the sun hadn't even risen yet when the 'minister' of the small chapel finally roused himself from where he had passed out in the main ceremony room and entered his cramped office, head pounding with a champagne hangover. It had been quiet a celebration last night, and he smiled at the memory of the happy couple, wishing them the best. Something was strange about them, however. Something about their names. Something he should remember.

And then he saw it. There was a small Post-It note on his bulletin board, placed there so long ago that it started to fade and age, long forgotten. But now he remembered. Remembered receiving a call from some psychiatrist in Chicago, asking him to call back if anyone ever showed up under a specific set of names, Trevor Claire and Claire Trevor. Confused at how the man could have known what would happen so far in advance, the minister pulled the post it off the wall, looking at the phone number written there, blinking with curiosity.

"Dr. Frechette..." he read. "Hmm. Guy must be some kind of psychic."

The man paused, suddenly reluctant. Finally he shrugged and picked up the phone.

"What could it hurt..."

_All my life I've waited, this is true...  
_  
Finally the music ended, the singer stopping his song as the acoustic guitar hit a final chord and faded away, leaving only the sound of a ringing phone in the minister's ear. As he waited for this Dr. Frechette to answer the call, the minister tried to clear his head.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	7. Falling Home pg 7

PREVIOUS PAGE 

  
An extremely official looking dark brown file folder slammed down onto Frechette's office desk from out of nowhere, several papers shifting inside as the folder came to a stop at an angle before the surprised doctor.

A low voice spoke to him.

"That's a court order, Dr. Frechette. In case you were wondering." 

Blinking as he sat at his office desk, Frechette paused as new morning light flowed crisply onto his shoulders through the window behind him. The bearded doctor's face held a stern expression as he looked up at the man standing before him. But for the first time, at the edges of his eyes there was also a slight hint of fear at the sight of that folder.

The imposing police detective who he had been dealing with on Trevor's investigation was in his office again. He was standing silently before him, his gaze hard and angry as he glared at Dr. Frechette with his arms crossed before him. But this time he was not alone. Standing there with the police detective was Frechette's direct superior, Dr. Greely. He had accompanied the detective into Frechette's office for this official matter, and it was he who had spoken earlier. Now there was a consolatory look on his eyes. Yet despite that, the fact that he was even there at all was a testament to the seriousness of the situation Frechette found himself in. Looking away, Frechette swallowed as discreetly as possible, his mouth feeling dry. He realized that the imposing police investigator had finally had enough.

Having merely watched up to this point, the detective finally broke his silence. His words were simple, reasonable sounding, but laced with hints of menace. "You do recognize the document there before you, don't you doctor?"

Frechette scoffed quietly, but he knew he wasn't coming across as confidently as he hoped. He was shaking on the inside. "Of course I know what a court order is. I'm not a fool--" 

"This document," the detective interrupted him, obviously trying to keep his temper in check and only just barely succeeding, "orders you to turn over all of your remaining files, case notes, and relevant records on both Mary Simmons and Trevor Hale." 

Frechette sputtered, still trying to respond. "I-I don't understand. I don't see why it's necessary to resort to--" 

"It is necessary. Because frankly _ Doctor,_" the detective tinged the last word with disdain, "I don't believe you've been either helpful or honest in aiding our investigation."

"But I've been nothing but cooperative with-" 

Dr. Greely shook his head and looked down. "I think we're past that point, Ian."

The detective simply looked at him. "Who are you trying to convince, Doctor? Yourself? Because you know I don't believe it. And I doubt that you do either. You still can't face the truth. Deep inside, you don't want Trevor Hale to be caught." 

"That's ridiculous." 

"You've been talking to witnesses before our investigation gets to them, doctor." The detective made his point clearer. "Have you been coaching them? Helping them to cover Mr. Hale's tracks?"

Frechette thought about it, his reply full of uncertainty. "I would... I wouldn't do that." 

Dr. Greely sighed "You must realize, Dr. Frechette. That this doesn't look good for you. Or the hospital."

"I think I understand now," the detective said. Seeing Frechette's reaction, he pulled slowly back with a look of realization on his face. "I understand why you hated Mr. Hale before. Why you protect him now. Deep down, you admire him. For doing the things that you can't. And deeper down, some part of you might actually believe him. Believe that he's Cupid." 

"I don't.. I..." Frechette's eyes swept around the room, looking for some form of support from them, but he found none. Suddenly he realized Faith was in the room too, behind the two men, unseen. But she was turned away, as if not able to look at him as she faced the door with her arms crossed. He almost called out to her, but stopped himself, knowing how it would seem. Instead, he was truly alone in this. And for the first time as he paused in honest self reflection, he wondered if what the detective said was true.

The police detective remained further back, unconcerned as he spoke in a matter of fact voice, beyond the need to overtly threaten anymore. "This could get really bad for you. It could get out of control very quickly. A prominent psychologist such as yourself. Don't think I haven't considered bringing you up on charges of--" 

Frechette went cold for a moment, looking past the detective's shoulder again. Faith was still silent, unwilling to meet his eye.

"--impeding an ongoing investigation. Concealing evidence. Aiding a wanted fugitive--" 

Dr. Greely finally interjected, trying to defuse the situation. "I'm sure it won't come to that, Detective." He turned back to Dr. Frechette.

"Ian, there is already a court order. It's time for us to cooperate in this. We can clean up this whole mess. For the good of the hospital. For the good of yourself. Do as he says." 

The detective's eyes changed, almost sympathetic. Frechette wondered if it was real. "You still have control, Doctor. Don't make things worse. You have the power. Just... start with something... anything... to show me that you're willing to cooperate."

The office was completely silent, the two men waiting. Frechette felt heavy inside, unexpectedly reluctant, not knowing what to do. 

Then suddenly, his office phone rang.

With the moment broken, the detective turned away, frustrated. Still in a daze, Frechette reached over and picked up his office phone. 

"Ian Frechette," he answered simply, listening. A surprised look crossed his face at what he heard. Across the office, Faith didn't seem surprised at all. Not looking at him, her head dropped sadly down. Everyone else waited for Frechette to finish his call.

Frechette couldn't believe what he was hearing. Still listening to the call, his eyes met the detective's again as he answered. "Umm... yes. Yes, I remember. Yes. I understand. Thank you. that is precisely what I needed. Thank you." Blinking, he slowly put the phone back down, his face still absolutely stunned.

The detective didn't seem to care, waiting impatiently.

"They're in Vegas." Frechette's voice was soft, not believing this was happening. 

"What?" The detective's attention peaked. 

"Trevor Hale and Claire Allen are in Vegas at this very moment."

"Vegas, How did--" For once it was the detective who was at a loss for words. 

Frechette still felt that reluctant weight in his chest, but he continued anyway. "Something unexpected has happened. The victim, Mrs. Simmons predicted many things about what Trevor would do, before her death. Based on that, I left instructions with the manager of a small wedding chapel in Vegas. To contact me if anyone, under specific assumed names Mrs. Simmons provided me with, ever showed up there. Trevor Claire. Claire Trevor. They did. Last night. They're in Vegas right now."

Frechette grabbed a pen and paper, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he wrote down an address. "The chapel manager believes they were staying nearby, overnight. Within a city block. But this is where they were. As recently as several hours ago." 

He couldn't explain it, but as the words left his mouth, Frechette felt ashamed. He couldn't believe he was giving this over to the detective. He couldn't believe Faith had been right about what would happen. He looked over to where Faith had been standing and only he could see her. But there was no one there. She was gone.

Looking at the paper in his hands, the detective addressed Frechette. "Ok... we'll check this out. If this is true, then it's a start, doctor. But just that. We're not done here. I'll give you some time to gather your files, but we'll still need all the rest of information you have from Mrs. Simmons, or about the people helping Trevor Hale." 

Frechette paused. "Fine."

Dr. Greely let out a sigh of relief. "You're doing the right thing, Ian. This madness is almost over." 

"Good morning, doctor," the detective said curtly, powering out of the office. He was followed by a content looking Dr. Greely, who obviously felt the matter was resolved.

Frechette was alone again as he sat behind his smooth, expensive desk. He felt saddened by what he had just done. Inside he knew it was for the best. He was simply protecting himself. Helping to catch a fugitive, just like he said he wanted to do in the first place. But if that was true, why did he feel empty inside?

High above Las Vegas, the interior of a rooftop hotel suite remained quiet, dark and serene. Outside, glowing through the wide, ceiling to floor windows, the approaching sunrise was glowing in a breathtaking swath of beautiful morning colors. The waiting, vibrant sky was bright against the shadowed interior of the plush room within. Below it, the skyline of Vegas seemed still, as if in anticipation of the coming day. Sitting in a cushioned recliner that faced the windows, Trevor was waiting for the sunrise too, smiling and feeling content. 

Out of the darkness behind, Claire walked past him to the window, moving slowly. She was naked from head to toe, her slender form outlined in black against the colorful morning beyond. Remembering last night, their first night together as husband and wife, Trevor's eyes shifted over to her, watching her move, quietly, happier than he had ever been.

"It's beautiful, Trevor." she said, looking out. 

"Yes it is." He wasn't watching the sunrise. 

In that moment the upper edge of the waiting sun finally inched up into the orange colored sky, sending the first new golden light of dawn towards them, bathing Claire's body, shining on them both. Claire closed her eyes, smiling in the new light.

"Enjoy this moment, Trevor. Before the rest of the world catches up with us." 

She stood before the window, still a dark outline against the sunrise, but with the light of the morning along the edge of her figure, emphasizing her form even more. Trevor seemed transfixed, watching her naked and beautiful against the sky.

"Trevor, being here with you has been amazing. Being above all that out there. I don't want it to end. But we should get dressed. We need to keep moving."

"Claire..." Trevor shifted uncomfortably. "It's... it's too hard."

"Well, I know how sometimes things can feel overwhelming, but--" 

"No, Claire. It's too hard. I... need to stay in this chair for awhile." "What?" 

Turning her head from the sun, she saw Trevor watched her from the shadows, shifting slightly in the chair, almost embarrassed. Suddenly she understood.

"Oh... ok." She waved her hands slightly towards him, amused, not knowing where to put them. But then as she looked back at her new husband, a playful glint flashed in her eyes. Moving seductively, deliberately, she sauntered over to him slowly, making him shift in his chair even more. In one fluid motion, she draped herself across his lap with a smile, looking into his eyes.

"Why... Mr. Hale. Why do I suddenly feel like I should salute?"

Trevor kissed her. "We have time..."

She laughed, kissing him back. "All the time in the world."

It was still early morning in Vegas, the air crisp at that hour as the sky continued to brighten.

Trevor saw the uniformed officers immediately, pulling Claire back before they rounded the wall corner leading to the parking lot. The morning rays still hadn't reached the sidewalk where they stood. Trevor held Claire back, panic in his eyes.

Lowering her voice, Claire whispered to him. "Trevor? What's wrong..."

"Over there," he whispered tensely back. "By the car, Claire."

Slipping past him, she pressed herself tightly against the wall and edged sideways, slowly looking past the corner towards the distant spot where the black mustang convertible had been left parked last night before they had been whisked away in the now long gone stretch limousine.

There were two policemen there, a man and a woman, slowly circling the black mustang as they examined it. Their police cruiser was parked across the mustang's front bumper, hemming it in. As Claire watched from a distance, one of the officers paused behind the car, looking at the rear license plate as he spoke into a walkie talkie receiver attached to a wire. In the crisp, early morning air, she couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was obvious he was calling in the plate number.

Pulling back, Claire's body went cold with fear, her heart pumping frantically as she remained there pressed against the wall. The two of them were still out of sight, but they had run out of time

"How did they--" she began.

"They must have found out about Michael and Angela. Saw their car was missing." 

There was still fear in his eyes as he looked at her. "Where do we go now, Claire?"

Her mind raced, thinking, going over possibilities. She settled on one quickly. "We get as far away from here on foot as fast as we can. Then... we find different transportation."

"Okay." Trevor took a deep breath, steadying himself. "We can do this, Claire."

She took a deep breath too. "Yeah. Let's get moving."

Gripping her hand, he gave her a quick, desperate kiss, looking into her eyes. "No matter what happens. No matter what comes... just know that I love you, Claire."

"I love you too, Trevor." 

And then for a brief moment, Claire smiled. Raw fear still obviously pulsed through them as they hid there, but she almost believed they could handle anything. "Come on, Trevor. Let's get going before they search the area." 

As quickly and as quietly as possible, they walked away from the parking lot, slipping into an alley in the opposite direction as they abandoned their car and all the supplies the group had given them, leaving it all far behind. 

It felt strange to be starting with almost nothing.

Trevor and Claire were several blocks away, surrounded by the cold early morning air that the sun's rays far above hadn't reached yet. They clothes, they had some money, but nothing more. As they walked, they came across a non fenced in used car dealership. Above, there were colored streamers of triangular flags over the whole lot, stiff and tattered. At the far back was the small shack of the car lot's sales office, dark and empty with no one there yet.

Keeping an eye out for police cruisers on the street, Trevor and Claire moved discreetly into the lines of unattended cars. The street across the front of the lot remained empty, the small space fairly isolated in an out of the way spot.

Claire kept looking around with a purpose, searching for a car it would be easy to get into. Then she spotted one, a large blue convertible near the back. It had its top down, was big and solid, but it had seen better days. Crouching, she led Trevor over to it, slipping over the car door and into the front seat and out of sight.

Still watching the street, Trevor didn't notice what she was doing until he turned around. Surprised she was already in a car, he ducked down quickly to not be seen. He called to her in a loud whisper.

"Claire! What are you doing?"

"I'm hot wiring this car, Trevor." 

"Wha-...Hotwi-... How... Where'd you learn to do that?"

Laying on the floorboard, Claire had already forced open the steering column assembly. Now she was carefully pulling out and searching through several wires near the ignition switch. As she continued to work, she smiled at Trevor's questions.

"I'm the doctor of a jazz guitarist, remember? He took me and Mara on the road a lot. Surprising what you pick up. I was drunk, sixteen, trying to win a bet with my father. But Mara won. She was always better at this than I am." 

Trevor blinked, not expecting that. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any hotter... What kind of messed up GTA childhood did you have?"

"An interesting one... I just hope I can remember enough to figure this out."

As Trevor waited, he looked around the car lot helplessly. "Some god I am, Claire. Wish I could offer some divine power to pitch in with right now."

"Well, I don't think there was a greek god of Grand Larceny, Trevor." 

"Actually, there--" he stopped when a car passed on the street, ducking further down. 

"Don't worry, Trevor..." Claire was straining to pull the wires out more, stripping the leads bare. "I should be able to do this..." 

Trevor thought about what he had just admitted. He hated feeling helpless. There had to be more he could do. He was Cupid, the god of love after all. Either he believed that, or he didn't. It was time to jump in and test some of his godly skills. Keeping low, Trevor moved to the front of the car. Claire remained out of sight inside the convertible, but he could still hear her as she struggled with the wiring.

"Just one more..." she said. Then there was a snap of electricity followed by a curse. "Damn it! That stings. Let me try something else..."

Slowly Trevor stood completely up before the front bumper, feeling exposed in the morning air of the car lot. His gaze dropped to the square blue hood of the large convertible, a glint of challenge in his eyes. Was he a god or not? Taking a resolved breath, he reached out with an open palm and placed it down on the cool metal of the cars hood. Claire continued to work out of sight on the floor of the front seat. Trevor closed his eyes, concentrating. He knew he could do this.

He whispered to himself, his eyes still closed. 

"There is no spoon..." 

Without warning, the car engine suddenly rumbled loudly to life, roaring and revving in the morning air. Trevor yanked his palm back in surprise, opening his eyes. Claire rose from the front seat with a victorious smile, looking at him.

"I got it, Trevor. Get in." 

Happy for entirely different reasons, Trevor moved quickly to her side of the car and kissed her. 

"Scoot over, Claire. I'm driving."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Men."

Trevor jumped over the car door and into the convertible, dropping in behind the steering wheel with a smile. Beside him, Claire noticed his new optimism. 

"What's with you?" she asked, curious.

"God's taking the wheel," he joked. Trevor put the large convertible into drive and looked at her. "Just now realizing anything's possible, Claire."

He accelerated out of the line of parked cars on the unattended lot, pushing free through a streamer across the exit before speeding eagerly onto the road and heading out. 

Trevor couldn't exactly remember how everything had happened next. 

Multiple images seemed to flash together.

A sudden tense flash of fear as the blue convertible turned a corner in the road and a police cruiser unexpectedly drove past their front bumper, crossing their street at an intersection, and turning past them.

Time slowing as they tried not to panic when the cruiser pulled away. Then as they watched in the rear view mirror, the cruiser paused... and turned back towards them. 

Trevor kept driving slowly forward. The police car dropped in behind them, it's lights flashing calmly with no sound. With fear in their eyes, Trevor and Claire looked at each other silently, not knowing what to do.

Trevor accelerated, and the cruiser gave chase.

Everything suddenly was faster, a chaotic mix of roaring engines, wailing sirens, and flashing lights. But then it was as if the sound dropped away, leaving behind a dizzying whirlwind of even quicker images, speeding out of control.

They sped past casinos, down empty early morning streets. They moved into a business section, with other flashing lights joining in pursuit, silent in the rear view mirror, pulsing violently. There were other flashes of light on side streets parallel to them, the hunt growing wider as more cruisers followed them. Trevor rounded a corner. A man in a suit jumped out of the way, papers from his briefcase flying. A street sign crashed over their hood and past them. Sparks erupted at Claire's side as they grazed parked cars.

But then in the silence, there was a low approaching roar over the frantic images, growing louder in an unstoppable rush. Suddenly the quick staccato images stopped as sound rushed loudly back into Trevor's ears. And then... he was back in only one place. The one place it seems he had been in forever. Driving, desperate to escape, skyscrapers towering all around. 

Trevor wondered how it had come to this.

As he sped dangerously around slower traffic, swerving harshly back and forth with the world bouncing and blurring around him, he realized he didn't even really know where he was anymore or where he was going. His entire existence now was about sirens, acceleration, and evasion. Adrenaline flowed through him like a roaring wave moving a break neck speed until he was under, fear drowning him all around. In all that chaos, the need to run, the need to escape, was the only thing that felt solid.

But as the large blue convertible he and Claire were riding in stretched and swerved past each obstacle with its engine roaring, each near miss smaller and smaller, more out of control than the last, it began to dawn on Trevor that they were running out of time. Eventually this chase would end, and not well. A quick glance into Claire's terrified eyes, seeing cling desperately to the car around her, told him that she sensed it too. The pack of police cars following were just too good and too many. It was only a matter of time before they were boxed in, or Trevor crashed.

Over the din, Trevor felt helpless as he called out to her. "We're going to need a miracle, Claire..."

And then... they got one. 

All over Vegas there was constant construction. One block ahead, a new skyscraper was being built, a slender cable lifting a giant steel girder into the sky next towards a nest of others, their beams resting high above the city street. And then out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, the cable broke, snapping loudly in two.

Hurtling down the street, Trevor saw the skeletal, metal frame outline of the building bouncing towards him, and his mind raced as he thought about how to get around it safely.

High above in the building framework, construction workers scrambled and dove out of the way as the massive steel girder fell, hitting the level stack of girders beneath it with a rattling steel boom, tilting one of the remaining girders up and towards the edge as it tumbled past on it's way to the street below. 

With the sirens loud in Trevor's ears in the enclosed space of the skyscrapers, Trevor checked his rear view mirror again, the police lights still flashing there as the convertible raced up next to the construction site. He suddenly looked forward again just in time to see a huge metal object crashing into the road ahead, cracking the street below as Trevor raced towards it. 

"Trevor!" 

"Oh gods!" His eyes widened in shock. 

Without thinking, he did the only thing he could do, slamming the steering wheel to the right.

The car fishtailed, and it's rear driver's side struck the girder, crunching and splitting part of the metal car body along the wheel well, above the tire as the car pulled of the road and sped away, driving past the gate and into the maze of the construction site.

Far above, the girder that had been tilting precariously on the others, began to slide along its length, destabilizing the whole stack and disappearing from view.

The police cruisers trailing Trevor slowed when they saw the first girder fall. They watched as the convertible turned into the construction site. 

Inside one of the police car, the second officer motioned frantically to the driver. "in there! In there!" 

As they approached, suddenly another girder fell from the sky and crushed into the gate, collapsing the way, dust rising into the air. The car stopped, both drivers examining the situation as other screeched to a halt behind. 

"Can we go around?" one asked the other. 

As if in response, a dozen more girders came raining down, making a wall of twisted metal, erasing any doubt. 

For Trevor and Claire, the world still bounced and shook harshly around them as Trevor raced the convertible across the rocks, dips, and gravel of the construction site. A forest of vertical support girders flashed by as Trevor steered through the tight spaces of the unfinished building. Everything seemed to vibrate chaotically as they tried to escape, rattling their bodies as they both held on for dear life, their vision shaking uncontrollably. 

And then they were clear of the maze of steel and cement, racing towards a simple chain link fence and gate fronting a back alley. Trevor accelerated and burst through without pause, the car's back swinging around and throwing up a plume of earth as it turned. Then the car was speeding down a thin, one lane dirt alley. For the moment they were going straight, bouncing along at high speed. 

Claire looked back, but there was no pursuit. Close walls with no openings blurred past on either side, almost within arms reach. Their hearts still beating a thousand miles a second, they both finally had a brief moment to think.

"What just happened, Trevor?" He shrugged, speaking loudly over the roar of the engine. "I don't know... Just lucky, I guess."

And then, far ahead, they saw the alley simply coming to a stop. All that that was left was a small dry slope of yellowed grass and weeds, approaching quickly.

Trevor's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, not slowing down, but uncertain as he looked quickly back and forth between her and what was coming. "What do we do, Claire!?"

She didn't know what else to say, shouting over the roar of the engine too in the tight space.

"We keep going, Trevor! Drive cross country until we find a back road or something!" 

The blue convertible bounced up the grassy rise, shaking before moving over the crest and disappearing into the Nevada desert beyond.

It was several hours later, and Frechette felt a coldness form in his chest the moment that he saw. 

He was inside his office, watching the large plasma screen television inside his polished cabinet that he never watched, his harsh gaze watching a news report, his body tensing.

A pretty female reporter was on the screen sitting behind a desk in a studio. 

"_The incident began earlier this morning, when an anonymous tip led investigators to a stolen car in Las Vegas, one it was believed the wanted fugitive Trevor Hale and his hostage, esteemed Chicago author, columnist, and relationship expert Dr. Claire Allen, to have been using. But then a short time after police found the car, the two were spotted in a different vehicle and several police cruiser pursued, resulting in a high speed chase through downtown Las Vegas, before the fugitives escaped. We are now showing you some raw footage taken by a visiting tourist, who just happened to--_" 

Frechette stopped listening, a lump in his throat. There in front of him was the result of what he had done, the tip he had passed on earlier that morning. He had caused this. He had lit the match, and now the situation was burning out of control. 

Turning back to the rest of his office, he tried to reign in his thoughts. He had done the right thing, hadn't he? Every time he cooperated with the police, he was simply protecting himself. But if that were true, if what he had done was so logical, so reasonable... why did it feel wrong inside him? 

Frechette looked over at the court order still lying on his desk. Everything else he had. Everything. That's what they wanted, but he wasn't ready to face that yet. Because inside he knew that if turned over all the information he possessed, Faith's predictions in his case notes, Jaclyn's extensive list of the contacts helping Trevor and Claire, then it could be the cause of many more scenes like the one he had just witnessed. 

The sour looking doctor paused where he stood, as if deciding. Then he called out, his voice full of uncertainty.

"Faith? Are you there?" 

He looked around his austere, expensive office, but it was empty. Frechette sighed in disappointment. He hadn't seen a single glimpse of her since the police detective and Dr. Greely had left that morning. Inside, he told himself that he should be happy that she was gone. Instead it startled him inside when he realized that he wasn't.

He tried again. 

"Faith, what should I do?"

Searching, he turned in place again. But there was nothing. No startlingly beautiful blue eyes watching him tenderly, her blond tresses surrounding her as she smiled like an angel. There was no calm, contented voice, full of music, to comfort him. No serene face offering him kindness. And most of all, no answers. 

Jaclyn couldn't believe what she was seeing either. 

Her wide open eyes were frozen as she watched the same news broadcast from her apartment. She simply stood there, stunned, transfixed by the images on her screen. In her hand was a new, updated contact schedule and supply drop for Trevor and Claire, now completely forgotten as it fell numbly from her hands.

In the apartment behind her, Champ was still gathering some of the supplies and donations. The two of them were the only ones in Jaclyn's apartment, alone together. Champ seemed lost in his own thoughts as he put loaded several boxes with food and necessities, realizing how much he had relished the last several days with Jaclyn, being with her as he helped out. There was still a deep unspoken wound between them that needed to be healed. But it didn't take long to remember how much he enjoyed being around her, or even simply being near her. Every time he saw her energy and enthusiasm, he remembered again why he fell in love with her.

Not turning around, he called out to her as he worked. "The phone's been clicking again. I think it's being monitored. There's a chance that--" 

Champ stopped when he looked over to where she was standing, motionless before her small tv, her papers scattered at her feet. From where he was he couldn't hear what was being said, but there was obviously something that was not right. Concern growing on his face, he walked carefully over to her.

"Jaclyn what's wrong?" 

She still didn't move. Her voice was distant, lost.

"There... was a chase. A police pursuit. They were almost caught. There in Vegas. Some anonymous tip. But... they managed to escape." 

"What?"

He looked at the tv to see what was happening. The image flashed away from the news anchor and began showing some shaky hand held footage marked recorded earlier. It seemed to be amateur footage from a tourist's video camera at street level, swinging wildly around to catch a brief image of a blue convertible racing by and scraping against a parked car in a shower of sparks, before speeding away as four police cruisers followed in frantic pursuit, their lights flashing wildly. 

"Anonymous tip..." Jaclyn spoke softly, her eyes watering, a helpless expression on her face. "Why would anyone do that to them? Why--" 

She turned to him as realization dawned on her. "Champ... are we the anonymous tip?"

"What? Of course not. There's no way that--" 

"The phone's been clicking for days. I know. We've been as careful as we could. But what if... what if we..." 

"Jaclyn that didn't happen."

"So they just 'happened' to almost get captured at one of our contact points? Champ what if, without knowing it... we're the source?" 

"I..." He didn't know how to answer that. 

She looked back at the screen. "They're really all alone now. There's no way they'll risk the next drop. We don't have any way of contacting them. We don't know where they are, where they're going. They're... really on the run." 

Champ simply stood beside her, not knowing what else to do.

Suddenly Jaclyn's face crumbled, and turning towards him she fell into his arms, tears falling from her eyes. Champ seemed surprised for a moment, but then he put his arms around her, comforting her. The two of them were all alone in the quite, and there was nothing else that could be said. 

The night sky outside Frechette's exclusive high rise window was dark. Evening covered the whole of Chicago beyond. Inside the bearded doctor's immaculate penthouse suite, it was dark as well. The only glow illuminating the interior was the dim light from the fireplace falling upon him. The fire's glow left him constantly half in shadow and half in light as he carefully paced back and forth over his expensive carpet, his thoughts in turmoil.

Something different was happening to Dr. Frechette, and he didn't know what it was. He had always been so confident, so sure of himself, considering whatever course of action he decided on to be the only right and just one. But now, that hidden intellectual swagger, that certainty, seemed to be a distant memory.

As he paced in the dim orange light of the fire's glow, he carried the court order he had been given earlier that morning in his hands. When he looked down at it, it felt solid, real. Something with real consequences. Something he could not ignore, and something he could no longer avoid. His time had run out. Now he was faced with what was official mandated by law. To turn over everything. Everything that would get Trevor Hale into custody, almost without question. And the thought of that was causing a strange pull inside his chest that made it harder to do. Something really was different. 

The stern faced doctor walked over to a small table, turning on an expensive lamp. It's light illuminated a stack of case folders he had gathered, everything he had on both Mary Simmons and Trevor Hale, precisely as requested. Included in the stack was Jaclyn's list of contacts across the country, people who were helping the supposed god of love, revealing possible search areas. And even more damning, his hand written session notes containing Faith's predictions of what would happen next, predictions which had been miraculously true time after time. Yet for some reason Frechette hadn't expected, the prospect of turning all that over wasn't as easy as he would have believed. 

Still completely undecided and at a loss, Frechette lowered his head, not knowing what to do. 

It was the next afternoon, and the pale sun was glowing brightly through the high, thin windows of the police precinct building.

Frechette knew what he had to do.

He strode confidently forward through the large room, desks and file cabinets streaming by on either side. There was a cold, determined look in the doctor's harsh eyes, ignoring everything else around him and staying set on his purpose. Under his arms he carried the same case folders from last night. What he was doing made sense. His uncertainty was gone. In the end, he really had no choice. 

Walking straight up to the police detective's office door, Frechette was intercepted by the man's junior partner before he could go in. 

"Excuse me, Doctor. Can I help you?" 

Frechette gave the young man a smug look. 

"Yes. He's expecting me."

Far from the police precinct, Trevor and Claire were still driving, oblivious to what was going on. They didn't know how they had gotten this far. It seemed luck was still on their side. It had been a long day and night of staying on the most obscure roads they could find, not stopping for any reason. Always north, and west. They had switched driving duties several times for sleep, but now it was Trevor who was driving again. They both felt exhausted, battered and bruised by what they had gone through. It was hard to feel like they were being hunted for days on end, and it was all finally catching up to them.

The damaged blue convertible was still moving forward, as resilient as they were, but they could feel it was wearing down too. There were scrapes along its side where Trevor had careened off of parked cars in Vegas. The rear wheel well still showed the gash where the first falling girder had clipped the metal. A jagged piece of the car's body protruded downward, the pointed tip vibrating as it dragged and bounced against the spinning rubber of the tire as they drove.

Both Trevor and Claire suddenly looked up towards the road ahead without a word. The convertible was turning around a long, slow curve, and without warning a vast expanse of blue water appeared before them beyond the high cliff they were driving on. It was the Pacific Ocean, stretching calmly across their path as far as the eye could see. 

The police detective stood up from behind his desk as Frechette entered his office. Without preamble, Frechette tossed his stack of files down on the man's cluttered desk, not caring about politeness. "Here are all my files on Mary Simmons and Trevor Hale. As requested."

The detective nodded, seemingly relieved. "You're doing the right thing, Doctor." 

Frechette seemed to ignore anything the detective was saying as if it was of little consequence, continuing instead. "There's something else I need to tell you."

He looked the detective in the eye, his gaze certain, steady as he continued. "I have to be honest."

The convertible paused there, idling in the middle of the small, empty road as Trevor and Claire looked at the ocean. The isolated asphalt lane ended at the intersection of another small road following along the coast with a cliff on the far side. It all felt out of place. For so long they had been traveling with the simple, unexplained imperative that Trevor had felt. To go west. Now it seemed strange to have to stop. But they had finally run out of continent. There was no where else to run.

A light insubstantial rain began to fall from out of the pale sky above, misty and barely there. The two of them continued to look out over the water, undecided. 

"What now, Trevor?" Claire looked at him.

Trevor tried to find that pull inside him again., the same pull that had guided them here. But there was nothing. 

"I don't know Claire... We keep driving." 

Slowly, he turned the blue convertible and started to drive north along the coast. The road started to shine darkly under the misty rain. Their skin and clothing were becoming slightly wet under the gentle deluge, but it felt more like a cleansing of their tired bodies. In the damaged wheel well of the convertible, the metal fragment still scraped and bounced over the spinning tire. 

Far away from them, Frechette continued what he was telling the detective.

"There's more information I need to give you. Something Faith did, that I was holding back. It has information that could clear all this up." 

The small wet road curved and swooped along the coastal cliffs. Trevor drove through the mist rain. For a moment he gave in to the feeling of being exhausted, feeling it in his bones, but only for a moment. Some of the clouds broke apart in the sheet above, revealing a distant hint of rainbow arcing through the sky for an all too brief flash, before fading like a forgotten memory that never was.

There was no one else around. The small coastal road remained empty, isolated. If it really was a miracle that they had gotten this far without being spotted, then their luck was holding. But for some strange, unexplained reason, now everything felt quiet, as if waiting for something to happen. 

Frechette calmly handed over the very last file he was carrying, a file with writing on the outside, writing that wasn't his. Writing that simply labeled the file 'Proof'.

"Dr. Allen is not a hostage, Detective. She never was. Those pictures should prove that. Dr. Allen and Mr. Hale were romantically involved. They were also being stalked by Mary Simmons. Constantly. She was the one who took the pictures covertly, and she most likely felt threatened by their relationship. Mrs. Simmons was dangerous, prone to violence and obviously a threat to one or both of them. It is my clinical opinion that whatever did occur that night, was most likely in self defense. Trevor and Claire are blameless in this." 

The detective seethed quietly at what Frechette had held back. 

The previous night, in the darkness of Frechette's home, he looked into the fireplace, standing closer, thinking. 

Yet the voices in the detective's office could still be heard over the shadowed scene, continuing. 

"_I see... is this all there is, Doctor?_" 

Frechette calmly reached forward and placed Jaclyn's contact list and Faith's prophetic notes into the fire, keeping only one small piece of paper and putting it into his pocket.

In the unseen detective's office, Frechette's voice answered. 

"_Yes, finally. This is everything I have. There's nothing more._"

In the fireplace, the stack of papers quickly caught fire and burned, turning to ashes. The last bit of information that could reveal where Trevor and Claire were was gone forever. He had spent so many hours pouring over those sheets, it felt finally good to be rid of them. Inside, Frechette rationalized that he was simply protecting himself from incrimination. But deep down, he knew why he was really doing it. And for the first time, that didn't bother him. 

With a contented sigh, Frechette watched the fire burn until it was like the papers had never existed, satisfied, before turning away.

The metal scraping in the wheel well of the car bounced more frantically, getting caught in the thin groove it had made around the tire. 

Trevor looked out past the rain speckled windshield glass at the road ahead. The light mist had stopped. In the seat beside him, Claire was asleep. Up ahead was a high bridge leaping bravely across a wide gap in the cliffs, water rolling and frothing far, far below. 

The road still shimmered wetly as Trevor drove onto the two lane bridge and out to the middle.

Suddenly there was a large explosion. Behind him, the tire disintegrated and the blue convertible swerved out of control, the lost tire rim trailing sparks. In a split second, Claire was instantly awake, grabbing the edge of the door frame as the world spun around them. Trevor frantically tried to regain control.

Unstoppable, the low railing of the bridge raced towards them. The convertible burst straight through and past it without even pausing, even as Trevor still tried desperately to steer away.

They both paused in disbelief. For a terrifying moment everything seemed completely still, becoming lighter. Then the front of the car dipped down and the outside world tilted. Far below the bridge a huge vertical wall of water rushed inevitably towards them as their stomachs rose into their throats.

Claire barely had time to scream.

"Trevor!"

Time sped up, the water accelerating closer, impacting violently. 

And everything went black. 

TO BE CONTINUED...


	8. Falling Home pg 8

PREVIOUS PAGE 

  
All the sound was gone.

There was water, water everywhere. 

Trevor's entire body felt like it had been punched, his muscles aching painfully across every inch. The wall of water had engulfed everything, him, Claire, the convertible they were still strapped into. Yet in his confused daze it all felt strangely lighter to him, like it didn't matter as they sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, wrapped in an icy blanket of liquid. With blurred vision, Trevor saw white bubbles streaming silently towards him from out of the dashboard in the dimming light, felt them washing across his face in a soft, peaceful caress. As he became more aware, Trevor realized the car they were in was sinking nose first, deeper and deeper into the soundless watery chasm beyond it. 

Yet strangely, Trevor felt that he did hear a sound, accompanying him, watching him. He heard the sound of a distant chorus, singing long, slow chords mournfully, softly, as if watching. There was water all around, no other sound was heard, yet the voices continued to sing, sadly accepting what was happening as if feeling a sense of release. 

Trevor blinked quickly and became even more alert to his surroundings. The air bubbles were still rising straight towards him. The glass of the convertible's windshield was cracked in a spider web pattern. Beyond it he could see the car's hood, crumbled from the impact with the water. And past that there was only darkness. Darkness that they were sinking more comfortably into. Wait. They were sinking! In one desperate moment Trevor finally realized where he and Claire were. Panicked he looked over at her still strapped into her seat belt beside him. 

And then he saw it. Or rather, saw it again, like a scene he was destined to repeat, over and over. 

It was the same vision he had experienced before, a flash of him and Claire underwater with a curtain of bubbles rising between them. Only this time it was real. The only sound was the lament of the distant unseen chorus, soft and sad. There was red streaming from Claire's forehead where she had hit the dashboard, flowing out of her like a scarlet ribbon in the water. For a moment, several phantom memories flashed in his mind, always the same. The two of them together, dying, with bubbles rising between them like a curtain veil. 

Fingers numb in the cold water, Trevor fumbled frantically with his seat belt latch, desperate as he opened it. Then, reaching over, he did the same for Claire. She still hadn't moved, the water growing darker and more crushing around them. Taking her in his arms, he pulled her free of the harness as the unseen chorus continued to sing in the silent water. Slowly the car dropped away from them, and they floated in place. For a moment Trevor felt lost in the dim light, wondering which way was up. And then he saw the air bubbles. Saw them again for what they were. A blessing. A signpost, pointing the way to the surface. He gathered Claire's lifeless body in his arms and kicked away from the sinking car, following the bubbles upward. 

Now he was surrounded by nothing, holding Claire's limp body against his own, water in every direction. Looking down for a moment, he saw the car disappearing slowly into the dark below. Trevor shifted his gaze upwards again to see the bubbles floating further away from him, moving faster than he was. He had the strange thought that apparently... they were better swimmers than him as they rose easily and sparkled in shafts of sunlight from the surface. Looking up, he could see the twisting, undulating roof of the ocean surface from underneath. Growing dizzy from lack of oxygen, Trevor knew his time was running out. He kicked harder towards it, keeping Claire with him. Rays of pure light were sparkling through, clustered together, more than he could count, shifting and dancing through the silence as the chorus sang, sad, as if watching reverently. 

The rays were shining down on his face, illuminating him. His lungs were starting to burn inside. Trevor gripped Claire closer, his legs kicking frantically towards the shafts of light., willing the two of them to live. He was moving faster now, faster than the bubbles. Soon his body was surrounded by the dancing shafts of white in the hazy water. For a moment Trevor felt almost serene, like it had all happened before, over and over, the chorus voices beginning to fade. 

The light from the surface grew brighter, blinding his sight. 

And then Trevor burst through and into the air, gulping desperately, the sound of his breathing and the crashing of waves suddenly loud in his ears. Above, sunlight was shining cleanly through the clouds as he bobbed in the water with Claire motionless in his arms.

The singing chorus was gone, and a piano began to play instead the moment he broke the surface, playing a gentle series of quiet notes. Then accompanied by a cello and viola, moving softly with it, in a sad, beautiful melody. 

Turning in place on the surface, Trevor looked around. He was a small figure in a vast field of rolling waves, a tiny speck floating in the now glittering water as the sun glared through the dark, churning rain clouds above. Water splashed into his eyes as he held Claire's head above water, blood still streaming heavily down the side of her wet face no matter how often he wiped it away. On the surface surrounding them was a white circle of rising bubbles, all that was left of their impact, and already beginning to dissipate. The slender bridge stretched far above and behind them. He could barely see where the section of railing they had crashed through was missing in the sun. 

Trevor kept Claire against him and searched around again, his view blocked by high rolling waves nearby, their ebb and flow occasionally submerging both him and Claire. And then, over the rolling crests of the water, he saw... hope. There was a pillar of white, obscured by the waves, then visible again, far away. It was a white tower, the closest thing. He saw it more clearly in the distance, through rain that was falling on the ocean. It was an abandoned lighthouse, resting above the waters, high on a rocky cliff. 

"Stay with me, Claire." He kissed her gently as waves crashed loudly over them. Pulling her along, Trevor swam, keeping his eyes on the lighthouse as the piano and cello continued to play their soft, lingering melody. 

An old, decaying wooden door suddenly crashed open when Trevor kicked it in, the stormy sky gray behind him a deluge of rainfall fell thickly down in blowing sheets. He carried Claire limply in his arms, both of them completely drenched, the icy rain already chilling him to the bone. Two small windows looked into the dark room, drumming wildly with rain pounding against them in a fast staccato rhythm. Unseen, the sound of the piano and cello were still playing as a woman began to sing. 

_ When the dark wood fell before me,  
and all the paths were overgrown.  
When the Priests of Pride say there is no other way,  
I tilled the sorrows of stone._

His lip shivering uncontrollably from the cold, Trevor rushed Claire further into the room, the wooden door still swinging and creaking on it's hinges behind him. He splashed towards a small, utilitarian cot that still remained in the no longer used small circular bottom floor of the lighthouse. Gently Trevor placed Claire on it, her body slipping from his arms like so much dead weight. he looked into the shadows around him and spotted an old storage locker, moving towards it. 

A modern oil lantern suddenly came on in the darkness. Trevor pulled his hand back after lighting it. The broad expanse of a thick, dry blanket billowed outward as Trevor draped Claire with it on the cot. With drops of water rolling down his face, Trevor pushed Claire's dark, wet hair pack from her forehead in the dim light. Her wound was still bleeding. Tenderly, he wiped the blood away using a small towel he had also found in the storage locker but it kept coming back. Inside, his heart was pumping wildly with panic. When he felt Claire's skin, it was unusually cold under his touch. Her eyes fluttered weakly from what he was doing, and Trevor felt a sense of familiarity as he cleaned the bleeding wound. 

Then it hit him. He had seen Claire injured in the same place before. It had happened during their shared tent psychic induced vision of a past life together, a vision of him and Claire on the Titanic as it sank. he had seen the same wound, on the exact same spot on her forehead. On a level he couldn't understand, he felt it had also happened many more times than that, other places he couldn't remember. But now was the first time that he knew what that cut meant. 

It meant... separation. 

"Claire... Claire, you're dying." 

"Trevor, no..." her eyes fluttered weakly, hearing him. 

She forced a small smile that almost broke his heart. 

"No... With you... I'm finally living." 

Trevor watch her face tiredly collapse, weak as her eyes closed, and he knew her time was running out. He had to do something. "No, Claire. I have to get you some help. I can call an ambulance. When I carried you up here, I saw a phone booth by the street--" 

"Trevor--" Quietly panicked, Claire's arm reached out an stopped him as he rose, even though there was no strength in it at all. "Don't Trevor... They'll.. they'll take you away from me." 

"No they won't, Claire. No one can do that. Not ever. Everything--" Trevor stopped, making an attempt to reassure her, but he didn't believe it even as he said it. "--everything is going to be fine. No matter what happens, no matter what comes... I always love you. Don't worry." 

"Trevor, stay with me. I love you. Please... stay..." Her eyelids fluttered weakly and closed, passing out again. 

He smiled at her, wiping her wet hair back from her cold forehead gently one last time as he looked down at her, tears glittering in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, but he knew he was already set in his course of action. When he spoke, his words were soft and fragile. 

"Not this time, Claire. This time... I'm getting you into the lifeboat."

_ I did not believe because I could not see,  
though you came to me in the night  
When the Dawn seemed forever lost,  
you showed me you light in the love of the stars._

Rain was pelting wildly against the glass walls of the phone booth as Trevor pushed the door to one side and came in, completely soaked, water dripping from his head and arms. Quickly, he picked up the phone receiver. 

"Hello, operator?! Operator! I need an ambulance at my location. My name is Trevor Hale. The one everyone's been looking for. There was a car crash. A woman's been severely injured. Dr. Claire Allen. She's still bleeding. We need medical assistance here. We're somewhere along the coast, in a lighthouse along route--" 

As Trevor continued, the woman still sang, piano cello and viola in the background. 

_ Cast your eyes to the ocean,  
cast your soul to the sea...  
_

The sound of the rain falling in a wild deluge was still tapping frantically against the windows inside the lighthouse. Thunder from the storm rumbled through the dim room lit by the small oil lantern. Claire regained consciousness for a few moments, looking weakly around. 

"Trevor don't leave me... I love you... Trevor..?" 

Exhausted, she passed out again. 

_ When the dark night seems endless,  
please remember me...  
_

Inside the phone booth, Trevor slammed the receiver back down into the cradle, having finished the call. It was done. They were coming, and nothing could stop it now. He could feel it down to his bones, standing there, soaking wet, the driving rain hitting the glass outside. Time really was running out. Yet he felt strangely liberated, as if all the weight of the past few weeks was washing off of him. 

Breathing more calmly now, he started to leave, the rain slowing outside. But then he stopped, thinking. All around him the music continued to play, serene yet sad. Trevor suddenly knew he had one more call to make. He turned back and put in the last of his money, dialing again.   
"Hello?" A man's voice answered on the other end. 

Trevor blinked, smiling. "Knew you'd be home. Champoo. How you doin' man?" 

Stunned as he stood with the phone against his ear in Jaclyn's quiet apartment, Champ blinked at hearing Trevor's voice coming through the other end. Behind him the apartment was quiet and empty, Jaclyn asleep on the couch where he had draped a blanket over her earlier. 

"Trevor? Trevor, what are you doing. You can't call here." Champ spoke softly yet urgently, trying not ot wake her. "Trevor, this line is bugged. They could trace the call back to where you are."

In the cramp phone booth, Trevor smiled, the rain falling more gently outside, drops rolling down the glass. "Doesn't matter anymore, Champ. I already told them where I am. An ambulance is coming. Probably a bunch of police too. Claire's hurt, but she'll be okay. I feel it. But my time' running out and I just wanted to say something to you, Champoo." 

"_Me_?" he said over the phone. "_I'm at Jaclyn's. How... how did you know I'd be here?_"

He nodded, looking through the glass towards the still empty road, his face calm. "Let's say I just knew. There's something I need to ask you..."

The music continued to play all the other sound missing over a scene of a wet, rain slicked road curving silently along the ocean coast, it's shiny surface sliding by underneath and out of sight. Suddenly a string of ambulances and police cruisers came into view, moving swiftly forward along the road. Their colorful emergency lights flashed wildly through the calming rain, a long dazzling line of light in the soft downpour. The somber piano and strings still played over everything as in the far far distance a tiny white pillar was barely visible, the line of vehicles drawing closer. The woman's voice continued to sing, somber yet letting go, accepting. 

_ Then the mountain rose before me   
By the deep well of desire   
From the fountain of forgiveness   
Beyond the ice and the fire_

"Trevor, I..." 

Not knowing what to do, Champ turned in place in Jaclyn's apartment. Trevor's voice was still coming through the phone. 

"_Is Jaclyn there too?"_

He looked over at her, sleeping on the couch. "Yes, Trevor. She's here. Asleep. What do you need me to do?" 

_"Champ... I was right about the two of you. I was right all along. Get back together. You and Jaclyn... you belong with each other."_

Still watching her tenderly, Champ answered, his words soft. 

"I... I don't know if that will happen, Trevor."

Trevor closed his eyes in the phone booth, certain, the rain slower outside. 

"Make it happen, Champ. I don't create love. I never have. I just see. And point people to where their hearts have always belonged." 

"_Wait..._" Champ sounded confused over the phone. "_Wait, with all that's happening this very second... you took time out just for this?_" 

Trevor laughed. "Guess it's who I am. Besides. I love you, man. I was glad you were in my life. And this thing. You and Jaclyn... It's still there. I know it. But you both have to grab it, or it's lost. Beg her for forgiveness. Wake her with a kiss, I don't know. Just show her everyday how much you love her for a dozen years. For the rest of your life. But... make it happen." 

In the quiet of Jaclyn's apartment, Champ was speechless for a moment. 

Then he nodded. 

"Ok. I... I will, Trevor." 

Looking out of the phone booth and into, Trevor saw lights approaching, their reflection flashing off the rain speckled glass as the drops rolled down. "I'm out of time. I gotta go, Champ. Tell Claire I loved her... Every single time." 

"_Out of time? Trevor, what do you mean? Trev--_" 

Hanging up the phone with a sigh, Trevor prepared himself. Then he opened up the glass door of the phone booth and stepped out into the softly falling rain. Trevor moved out of sight as the reflections of colored emergency lights on the wet glass flashed closer. 

"Trevor!" 

In Jaclyn's apartment, Champ called out louder, concern in his eyes, but the call had already been disconnected. Pausing, Champ finally forced himself to let it go. Trevor was beyond his help now. They had done all they could. 

He turned the wireless phone off with a beep, looking sadly around the quiet apartment. Jaclyn was still asleep, his shouts hadn't awoken her. Champ moved over to her, prepared to tell her what had happened. He knew she would be crushed, that it had all been for nothing. But it had to have been for more than that. It had to have been. As he paused and looked at her sleeping, he saw how beautiful she was lying there. 

Not knowing what would happen or how she would react, Champ decided to try anyway. Remembering what Trevor had said, he slowly fell to one knee in the quiet apartment. Leaning forward, he gently gave her one, soft kiss. 

The already smashed worn wooden door to the lighthouse suddenly burst open again. Police with flashlights and guns drawn rushed in, followed closely behind by paramedics. The multiple white beams swept quickly through the dim interior in many directions a the paramedics moved instantly over to Claire, examining her injuries. Colored emergency lights flashed on the windows as several officers moved up the circular stairs to the upper levels, guns and flashlights pointed up and disappearing from view. As the paramedics treated her, Claire became conscious again, looking around in a haze at all the sudden activity in the small room as several flashlights swept back and forth, still searching. 

A paramedic tried to reassure her. "It's okay ma'am. You're safe now." 

"Where's... where's Trevor?" 

The radio on one of the officer's buzzed, a man's voice reporting. "_He's not up here. There are no other points of egress. Lighthouse is clean._" 

Another officer, drenched from the rain, came in through the front door. Water dripping off his raincoat, he came up to a police sergeant. "We've circled the building. Nothing." 

Several voices suddenly crackled through the radio at once, multiple officers outside calling in. "_We see him! We see him! Over here! Over here!_" 

"Go!" All of the police officers rushed outside into the falling rain. Others came stomping down the stairs and followed, leaving Claire behind with only one officer as a guard and the paramedics. 

"Trevor... Where's..." she called weakly out, closing her eyes.

A dark pair of shoes stepped through wet grass. Further beyond it was another pair, rain drops falling between. Moving up, a scattered line of policeman was revealed, their gun drawn as they carefully advanced forward, ready and alert, ignoring the rain that was falling on them and flashing brightly through the beams of their flashlights. The overcast sky was light gray in the the dim light, but before them, the clouds were beginning to break, fragments beginning to show. And visible a dozen yards ahead, his clothes completely soaked, was Trevor, outlined against the sky on the edge of a high rocky fall with ocean waves in the distance. The music continued to play, a woman singing. 

_ Cast your eyes on the ocean   
Cast your soul to the sea  
When the dark night seems endless   
Please remember me_

Falling out of the sky above, the rain was starting to lessen even more, but still lightly falling as the clouds began to release the last of their moisture. Trevor stood alone as he faced the ocean, not turning around. He felt exposed and out in the open as he stood at the edge of that high cliff. Ignoring everything else, Trevor was thinking, searching inside of himself. Looking out over the water before him, he saw sunlight already falling through the low ceiling of clouds, angling down in golden shafts onto the gray, undulating surface of the ocean. His skin tingled lightly as a misty, salty breeze flowed over him where he stood and looked out. Suddenly Trevor felt the urge to soar again, to fly without a machine around him, high into the clouds to follow the falling sunlight. 

He looked fearfully down the deep drop before him at the water crashing on the rocky shoreline far below. As he watched, raindrops fell past him, disappearing. Inside, Trevor didn't even know if his memories of flying free were even real. Maybe he would just step off that cliff and fall to his death. A delusional man ending his life. Yet inside, he knew he was still deciding, standing with one foot on the edge, standing on the edge of two worlds.

Slowly, Trevor lifted one foot up as if to take a step forward, remembered doing the same thing atop the skyscraper after shooting Faith. Then his footing slipped unexpectedly, sending rocks and fragments of wet mud plummeting into the deep drop as he steadied himself again. The question still danced in his mind. Did he truly know he was Cupid inside? Were any of those concepts actually real and not just self delusion? If he stepped off and into the air at that exact moment, if he finally tested the truth at last... 

His upper body seemed to lean forward, strangely pulled by the chasm before him. 

_ Though we share this humble path, alone   
How fragile is the heart  
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly   
To touch the face of the stars_

Trevor didn't turn as the officers behind surrounded him in a semi-circle, keeping a discreet distance away from him. Every one of their guns was still trained on him. He could feel it in his shoulders. One of the officers called out to him, but none of them came any closer. 

"Sir, back away from the cliff! Don't make this harder! It's all over..." 

Trevor hardly heard what the man was saying. Instead he looked up, searching for answers, not ready to leave, not ready to take that last step forward and leave everything behind, no matter which truth was real. But inside he felt something. Maybe it really was time. Time to end this. Time to finally know, one way or the other. Was he crazy? Was he Cupid? Could he live with himself if he wasn't?

Trevor's face began to fall sadly, tears in his eyes. Still not turning away from the drop before him, he took several steps backwards towards the officers, frightened, unsure. He could barely see, his vision distorted by lenses of lingering tears before being released, streaming down his face.

The half circle of police officers tensed for a moment, but calmed somewhat when they saw him backing away from the edge. The rain still fell lightly from the sky, their guns tracking him without pause. The same officer called out again. 

"That's it! Step away from the edge! It's all over now!"

The woman's voice continued to sing as a piano and viola played softly, delicate over the tense scene under the rain. 

_ Breathe life into this feeble heart   
Lift this mortal veil of fear  
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears  
We'll rise above these earthly cares _

Exhausted, distraught, Trevor blinked away his tears and looked up into the clouds. A few remaining drops of rain fell on his cheeks softly, water dripping down his forehead. Above in the pale gray, the clouds twisted, separating even more. Then, in his tired haze, Trevor felt... he saw something. High above, through the chaos of the clouds as they broke apart. Trevor thought he could make out distant shapes. Images. Of snow capped mountains and gleaming temples, shining in the distant sun. Surprised, he watched with awe, his eyes clearing, transfixed. And out of nowhere, he felt a sudden twitching on his back. There was some strange sensation of fluttering as if something powerful flexed and moved. Claire had told him his wings had always been there. And now... standing at the cliff at last, could he hear the sound of a wing flapping? 

Behind him the line of officers tensed again, wondering why he had stopped backing away from the rocky drop. One officer followed his gaze up when he saw Trevor staring at something in the sky with absolute wonder. But he only saw rainy skies and nothing more. Looking back down he watched what appeared to be merely a simple man, standing drenched on the edge of a cliff, motionless. He called out again. 

"It's all over now! There's no where else to go!" 

_Cast your eyes on the ocean   
Cast your soul to the sea   
When the dark night seems endless,   
Please remember me... _

A smile broke across Trevor's features, the light rain falling joyfully on his upturned face as he closed his eyes. Trevor spread his arms straight to either side, relishing the sensations in him. Opening his eyes, he looked straight ahead, happy, resolute. He had his answer. A person couldn't stay on the edge forever. They either decided to go past it, or to turn away. Decided to live, or decided to stop. 

The rain falling from the sky finally ceased. 

Trevor decided to live. The woman repeated over and over, the strings playing notes rising higher and higher.

_\ Please remember me... _

Without turning, Trevor sprinted, running forward. The edge raced closer to him, bouncing as he ran, feeling exhilarated. 

Inside the lighthouse, the paramedics were treating Claire, a few officers staying behind. Then suddenly all their emergency radios crackled with several voices, many people speaking at once. 

_"He jumped! He jumped!"_

_\ Please remember me... _

Through the clouds, bright sunlight suddenly burst forth and flowed directly onto the cliff face, illuminating everything, rain falling like golden stars. Blinded by the glare, the officers pushed forward to the edge after Trevor.

_ Please remember me... _

  
The piano and viola faded, and the chorus returned , singing as they had before. The police were clustered on the cliff face. Their shadows seemed to move back and forth across that bright glare shining from above as they searched. More quick, tense calls crackled over the radio, all of them looking, searching as the woman continued to sing. But not one officer looked up. With guns drawn, they were shadows on the edge of the cliff, searching the rocks below and the surface of the water., bathed in that golden light. To either side of that brilliantly luminous point, the dark clouds shifted and spread, breaking further apart. 

_\ Please remember me... _

The radios continued to call out. 

"_Unit 3, you got him?" _

"Negative. Nothing here." 

"Unit 7 here. No sign of suspect." 

"Unit 12, do you see any sign of a splash from over there?" 

"No splash."

"No splash here either." 

The woman's voice continued to singing, repeating, growing faint, a violin playing softly, still going higher and higher. 

_Please remember me..._

Voices continued to report in with no result. Above them, the sky seemed to turn contentedly around the sun as the clouds began to clear even more. It's light glowed down at them as the world spun, seemingly growing closer and closer until it filled everything, at peace. 

The sun flared and lessened again. The chorus had returned in the same mournful tones. The slowly turning sky had finally cleared as the glare lessened, revealing a clear late afternoon sky that that felt new and cleansed as the sun dipped further towards the horizon. Several ambulances and police cars were still clustered around the lighthouse in the warm light, the storm gone. Uniformed officers still searched all the area half heatedly but they no longer expected much, having found nothing all afternoon. 

The doors were open at the back of one ambulance, the police sergeant standing nearby. Inside, Claire was seated upright, a dry hospital blanket wrapped around her, being treated by a female paramedic. The paramedic had already sealed her head wound, now checking her further. Claire was still in a daze as she sat there, feeling weak. 

The female paramedic continued to check her vitals. Despite the fact that several wires and machines were hooked up to her, she preferred to do it by hand, holding Claire's wrist as she looked down at her watch. She spoke simply to Claire as she worked, trying to reassure her. 

"You're out of danger now, Mrs. Allen. We've stopped the bleeding. Got your body temperature back up. The IV fluids should help. You've been through a traumatic, physical ordeal, but your injuries have been stabilized and you'll be okay." 

Claire didn't say anything, not responding., staring straight ahead. The paramedic checked Claire's bandage and dressing again, the police sergeant still standing a few steps away. Sounding impressed, the woman continued to speak to her. "You have a strength in you, Mrs. Allen. Being kidnapped like that... it must have been horrible." 

Surprised, Claire finally looked at her, blinking when she realized how the woman saw what had happened to her. "He didn't kidnap me... He saved me." 

The paramedic nodded, not really understanding. "Well... considering your injuries, I'm sure there will be some disorientation. We'll keep an eye on you. And there's still some things we'd like to check back at the hospital." 

Claire lowered her head slowly, saddened by the fact that the woman didn't believe her. Saddened by the fact that the world would probably never understand. She said it anyway, her words soft. 

"He saved me. From my life, from my fears. From myself. Trevor saved me."

The woman checked Claire's head. "I'm sure he did. It's okay, Mrs. Allen. All that. All that happened is over. You're safe now. He's gone."

"Trevor's gone?" 

"Yes, ma'am. Probably dead. Didn't want to go with the officers so he jumped off the cliff over there." 

Claire looked straight ahead when she heard that, shocked, only half there.

"He didn't jump." 

"The officers saw it, Mrs. Allen." 

The police sergeant standing nearby spoke up. "Yes. Ma'am. We did. I tried to talk him back, but--" there was a guilty pain in the man's eyes as he continued, "--but I failed. We all watched him fall past the cliff's edge. He was gone by the time we got there. Haven't found a body yet, but nobody could have survived that fall. Divers will be searching the bottom tonight, but you're safe now. "

Claire was still staring sadly ahead, her eyes glittering. But suddenly through all of her sadness, she managed a tiny smile. When she softly spoke, her words were fragile, but her voice was certain. 

"He didn't jump... He flew." 

Out of nowhere she was suddenly full of energy and purpose. Claire tried to rise up from where she was seated, wires and IV tubes being pulled with her. The paramedic tried to get her to stop 

"Ma'am, please sit down. we'll be taking you to the hospital soon. You still need medical attention." 

"I want to see it," Claire said simply, removing the wires and monitoring equipment, hopping out of the ambulance. 

"Ma'am, I--" 

"I want to see it!" 

The police sergeant spoke up again. "Let her see it." 

The cliff face was calm. No one was there anymore. Ahead the ocean stretched calmly to a clear horizon and a setting sun. 

Slowly, Claire walked forward to the spot on the cliff where Trevor had left. Before her, the setting sun was now golden, tinting everything in rich, colorful hues. The police sergeant and the paramedic stayed a discreet distance back, giving her the room she needed. Claire stepped carefully, getting closer and closer to the edge, her heart beating fast. As she approached, she didn't know what she was feeling. empty, lost confused? Wanting to step off and follow? 

Closing her eyes, she paused reluctantly, standing on the edge. Then she leaned forward and out slightly, looking down. The sound of crashing waves whispered in her ears. She watched the water as it swirled and foamed amongst the rocks below. But there was nothing there. No sign of Trevor at all, no feel of him. He was gone. She looked around, before bringing her gaze back up. The ocean was calm, glittering in the sun. The sky was clear, a soft yellow and orange, peaceful, no feeling of Trevor there either. It was like he had disappeared, not leaving a mark. And in her heart she knew. He hadn't hit those rocks. He never touched them.

Sadly, Claire wrapped her arms tightly around herself, looking into the bright glowing circle of the setting sun, shining in her eyes. She couldn't turn her gaze from it, searching into it, the only bright thing in the sky. It filled her with warmth, thinking that maybe Trevor was somewhere on the other side of that glowing light, wondering if she would ever see him again. 

Unexpected, a soft breeze came off the ocean, brushing past her face like a caress. Claire closed her glittering eyes gratefully, laughing softly at the sensation as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She opened her eyes again, looking back into the sun. She already missed him, his touch, his smell, his sound, feeling an emptiness and a pull inside her chest, her heart, her soul. Knowing it was over. Yet no matter what had really happened, no matter what she felt right now, she knew. Knew everything would be ok. Eventually. But for now she let the feelings live and breath as they moved through her, flowing free, crying softly. 

With a sigh, Claire paused, reluctant to turn away, her eyes still glittering,, tears drying coolly on her cheeks, still feeling him somewhere on the other side of the sun. Breathing in the smell of the ocean and the grass and holding onto it for as long as she could, closing her eyes, trying to keep everything about that moment. The air, the sun, the sky. Then... she exhaled, finally letting go.

Opening her eyes, she looked into the light, unwavering. For the longest time, she had felt and dreamed she was running. Always running. She wasn't running anymore. 

"Goodbye, Trevor."

Claire turned calmly and left, heading back to the ambulance. She didn't look back. 

**3 YEARS LATER...**

At that time of the day the Chicago sky was overcast and gray, heading into late summer as it stretched above. There was grass below, and rows and rows of tombstones, sliding slowly past. Claire moved carefully forward through them, coming into view, her steps whispers on the soft grass. She was alone as she walked, no one else in sight. Claire paused, steadying herself. This day was hard, every year. It had never been easy to come here, to see this place, and it still wasn't. She tried to have a happy life, but today, she let those old feelings breathe and flow again, even if for only this one day. She was dressed in simple black, a formal knee length dress adorning her form. As she gathered herself, the vast field of tombstones remained quiet, and she was glad she was alone. There were others who could have accompanied her, but inside she felt she could only handle this if she was on her own. Just her and whatever part of Trevor she carried inside her. Claire seemed to find her courage and she moved forward again, her footsteps the only sound except for a few birds chirping in the distance. 

A piano began to play sadly, completely alone. Then a man began to sing. 

_Goodnight my angel time to close your eyes  
and save these questions for another day.  
I think I know what you've been asking me.  
I think you know what I've been trying to say_

Looking down, she finally stopped, her gaze on the tombstone before her. Her eyes didn't stray from it, watching it sadly, but not turning it away. The paramedic who had treated her three years ago had been right about one thing. There was a strength in her, a strength she never imagined she could have in this situation, But it was there, solid, holding her up. 

The tombstone before her was simple enough, just like so many of the others in the cemetery around her. One small things separated it from the others. On it's square top, instead of a statue of a star, or a cross, or a crescent... there was a heart. And what was inscribed on its front made it different too. There was an image of a heart, a bow, and an arrow overlapping carved into it. And beneath that the words.

TREVOR HALE  
CUPID  
GOD OF LOVE

She hadn't asked for any dates. To her Trevor was timeless, and always would be. Besides, putting a date of death seemed wrong somehow, like it didn't fit with what his life had been.

Claire looked to the sky, despondent, remembering that day on the coast, looking into the sun. She had felt him so close then. But now, here in this place, it was like he was completely gone. She couldn't feel him here at all. 

"Trevor?" Claire called weakly out, uncertain, wiping away a tear. She called out louder. "Trevor?!" 

Her words echoed over the tombstones... but there was no response. Looking back down, she spoke again softly, more for herself than for any hope of an answer. 

"It's been hard, Trevor. I... I miss you so much. I've lived my life. Continued. But... I miss you. It's not the same. It never will be. I guess... I don't like the world without you in it. I need you to come back to me." 

There was no sound. Claire kept looking down, voice fragile. 

"Please, Trevor. I love you. I need you to come back." 

She breathed in, stopping herself from crying, when suddenly... there was the sound of footsteps approaching. Claire caught motion out of the corner of her eye. 

"Trevor?" 

Her heart beat faster for a brief moment as she whirled around to see a man approaching, walking towards her. But then, as she got a better look, her hopes fell. A dark suit. A dour, bearded face. It was Dr. Frechette. The world would stay exactly the way it was. There would be no miracles. 

Turning back to Trevor's tombstone, Claire wiped away the tear on her cheek, accepting it. It's the way it was. Frechette was still coming straight towards her, moving forward, but doing it slowly... as if strangely reluctant. But after several long moments, he finally stepped up and was at her side, also looking down at Trevor's tombstone. Claire didn't look at him. She didn't feel any anger towards him anymore. On days like today, it was like she didn't feel much of anything anymore. There was no malice in her words as she spoke, instead sounding tired, resigned. 

"Hello, Ian." 

"Claire." 

Frechette watched Trevor's grave, his stance awkward as he stood beside her. There were several silent moments when it seemed he had something to say, but didn't know how to. At one point he even reached one arm out behind her as if to try to comfort her by placing it on her shoulders. But it wavered and he pulled it back without Claire seeing, not used to that action. 

"Claire... there's something I need to give you now." 

Interrupted, she looked at him a she wiped her eyes. 

"What?" 

"I'm supposed to give something to you."

"To me? what is it?" 

"A message. A note. From Faith. She left it to me to give to you. A slip of paper. She wanted you to have it."

Claire didn't understand. "What? Why? Why would Mary--"

"Because Faith knew you would be here. Today. In this spot. She knew years before all this happened. Knew it to the minute."

Claire couldn't believe it. "But, how--... How would she..." 

Frechette actually smiled, a strange sight for him, but he obviously still felt a sense of wonder at what Faith had done. "I don't know, Claire. I don't know how she did all the things she did. I guess I just stopped questioning it. I just accept it now on... on faith." 

He extended a small, worn looking piece of paper in his hand towards her. Faith's writing was visible on it, faded, less than a sentence's worth. Frechette held it in the air between them, waiting for her to take it, outlines of tombstones in the background, as the worn note fluttered in the breeze. "I'm not sure what it means, Claire. But I think you should have it." 

Claire reached out and took it, the note slipping from his fingers and into her hand, small and inconsequential. There wasn't much on it, but it did have today's date, time, and place on it with a 'For Claire' marking. There was also a word and a few other numbers, the note's ink old and fading. 

Frechette started to walk away after she accepted it, having done what he meant to do. But then, several feet away, he stopped and turned towards her.

"For what it's worth, Claire... I believe him." 

Claire didn't know how to answer him, surprised. Then she looked at him gratefully.

"Thank you, Ian." 

The bearded man walked away with a smile, moving off in the rows of tombstones. She blinked when she saw his right arm extend out slightly at an angle, and then his fingers curled around air, as of holding something that wasn't there, walking happily forward. Claire looked back at the marker on Trevor's grave. It had been 3 years ago today, and every year she came here on the anniversary, hoping it would get better, waiting for it to get easier. She was still waiting. 

Finding no comfort and no answers, Claire ignored the slip of paper in her hand and slipped it into her blouse pocket. Instead she took out a white rose from the bag she was carrying with her, and gently laid it at Trevor's grave, kissing her hand tenderly then placing it to Trevor's name.

Claire stood up again, turned around and went home. 

Stepping inside, Claire dropped her keys on the small table beside the door as she entered her home. She still felt tired and crestfallen from all the emotions of visiting Trevor's grace today, pausing to look around her house. It was large and lush, and for the moment anyway peacefully quiet. Claire realized she was grateful for that. She still had time before it would all become hectic again. Jaclyn wasn't scheduled to come back until 3:00. 

Walking into her living room, she walked past a small statue on the mantle, a figurine of a smiling Cupid cherub, the arrow on its bow pointed towards her. She stopped and looked at it again, realizing it was strange that she had never moved it, considering it was Faith who had left it there on the night she had broken in and Trevor killed her. But somehow, over time, the trauma of that night had faded, and now she associated it more with Trevor's life than Faith's death. When she looked at it, she usually though only of him. So she had kept the figurine where Faith had put it, no matter how strange it seemed. Just her little figurine of Cupid with it's bow and arrow. An arrow that was strangely pointed at her blouse pocket. 

She blinked, remembering the note that Frechette had given her. Taking it out, she looked at the small worn piece of paper again. It was definitely Faith's handwriting, she recognized it from the files Dr. Dehnt had had her look at. It was worn, as if Frechette had handled it, over and over. There wasn't much else on it, just a series of numbers and one word.

BELIEVE. 

Claire's brow furrowed, looking at the numbers, trying to understand them, reading them out loud. 

"11:30 a.m. ch. 7. What is that supposed to mean?" 

She looked over at her wall clock, blinking when at exactly that moment the minute hand flicked from the :29 spot to the :30 spot. Curious, she grabbed the remote for her tv, turning it on, not knowing what to expect. Claire watched skeptically for a moment, feeling silly that she was going along with this. For several seconds the transmission was innocuous, a flashy commercial for some large masculine truck. She reached out for the remote and picked it up, about to turn it off when the commercial ended and the program resumed. A camera showed a warm, sunny landscape and blue skies, all set over the voice of an enthusiastic sports announcer,. Sighing, Claire decided to listen, not really watching. 

"Welcome back to Athens, Greece, everybody for the Summer Olympics. We are live at the gold medal round of the Archery competition, where a local favorite is already dominating this tournament. Seemed to come out of nowhere. A phenomenal, phenomenal competitor, He's just hitting everything he's shooting at today." 

"I'll say, Tom. Even down to hitting on some of the pretty locals. There he is on screen, talking to a several blond young female fans from Greece. The guy's quite the charmer." 

"Yes he is, Jim. The women here really seem to adore this guy." 

Claire was watching now. 

She was dumbstruck, staring in shock, her body completely still as all thought left her. She forgot everything else. Forgot the remote that clattered out of her motionless hand to the floor. Forgot her home or anyone outside it. Forgot how to breathe, her mind growing dizzy, full of amazement. 

Slowly, she leaned forward, speaking softly. 

"Oh... my god." 

The crumbling, ancient steps and columns of the Acropolis were bright in the warm Grecian sun, clustered on a high hilltop with the rest of the albeit more modern city of Athens stretching all around it. Through a dim haze, the blue waters of the Mediterranean could be seen, visible in the distance. The place was quieter than usual, not many tourists visiting today. 

Except for one. 

A woman stepped forward, her shoe coming into view as she moved past the tumbled ruins sliding past. Looking up, Claire was revealed, walking quietly across the hilltop site. She couldn't believe she was here. Couldn't believe how much her life had changed in the past few days. She still didn't know if any of this was real, feeling like she was walking in a dream. Stepping resolutely ahead, she ignored the few tourists who actually were there and taking pictures. Ignored the vendors selling food that smelled good on the warm air. One older gentleman had a small radio playing a pop song sung in greek, the sound dancing on the breeze off the Mediterranean. Claire was instead gathering her strength, willing herself ahead, and needing everything she was to keep going forward. She had some many fragile hopes that were on the edge of being crushed at any moment. She was glad she could feel the sun on her skin, warm and real. Otherwise, she would still be convinced that what was happening to her was all only a dream. 

Claire moved past a column, and suddenly she saw a figure, a man standing beyond the foot of the Acropolis and near the edge of the hill, looking out to the sea, more worn pillars near him. She stopped, not knowing what to do, afraid she would blink and he would disappear. She still couldn't see his face because he hadn't turned around, and for a moment she was uncertain she wanted him to. Her hopes were so fragile inside her that if he turned and she saw a face other than the one she-- 

The man turned around, and Trevor looked tat her with a smile. He nodded to the ruins around them. 

"You mortals," he teased. "Can't take good care of anything."

"Trevor!" 

The world sped up, and Claire hardly realized that she was had rushed forward and was already in his arms, tears she hadn't know were there streaming down her face, as the fragile part of her broke at last. She kissed him again, again, again, again, again, and again, happier in that moment than she had ever been, the emotions bursting out of her like a nova. Trevor kissed her back, relishing her, laughing with her.

"Oh god, Trevor. Tell me your real. Just tell me that you're real." 

"I'm very real. In a lot of--" he looked down at her body against his, "--good ways. I love you so much, Claire. I'm home. I'm home." 

She pulled back and caressed the sides of his beloved face, her eyes glittering as she looked joyfully into his. 

"Trevor! Oh god it's been years! Why haven't I heard from you? Where have you been?"

Trevor's expression became more serious, looking at her lovingly and caressing Claire's cheek. "Well, there weren't any cell phones where I was. I went back to what I thought was my home. Back to olympus. They finally accepted me again. Took me in. Lectured me. And lectured me. Over and over and over. For so long that even Sisyphus heard. He sent me a hastily written sympathy note via dove. Eventually, they stopped. Told me not to do it again. And finally, at the end, they asked me... had I learned anything. During my time down here, had I learned my lesson. So I told them. If I really wanted to be a better god of love, I had to be with the woman that I love. When I said that, Athena smiled. She was always the smart one. So I fell. Fell again actually. Maybe that's what they mean by falling in love, huh? Falling home. To you." 

He held Claire closer, looking tenderly into her eyes, watching a breeze played softly through her dark hair, drying the tears on her face. He touched them, sad they were there, but his voice was full of certainty. 

"Claire, I realize now it doesn't matter where I am to be who I am. I'm always Cupid. And you... you're where I belong, Claire. When I'm with you... I'm already home." 

She kissed Trevor again, happy to finally feel him under her arms, under her lips again, the kiss long and deep. 

"Welcome home, Cupid." she said with a breathy smile.

Trevor swooned slightly from the intensity of the kiss. The when he looked at her face, suddenly he seemed amused. "Wait, you're not... you're not really sure that you believe me, are you? Some part of you still wonders. Did I fall in the water or get amnesia again or something and flee the country to come here." 

"Well... it all does seem a little convenient, Trevor." She smiled as she teased him, able to hold it for a second before laughing. "It doesn't really matter. I'm just happy you're back." 

He nodded. "That's okay, Scully. I kinda like that some things don't change completely." 

"I'm not Scully." 

"You might look good in red hair." 

"I look terrible in red hair." 

Pulling away from her, he stepped forward towards the vista before them. "Well, you don't have to believe I'm Cupid to take a few days with me to let me show you my city, Claire. We can go anywhere. They love me here." 

"So I heard." Happily, she stepped closer. "Let me show you something instead, Trevor. Something more than memories of old buildings. Something that will make you feel young, as when the world was new. Something that proves to me, that you really are Cupid."

Curious, Trevor looked at her in the sunlight, not knowing what she meant. Grinning, Claire gave him an enigmatic look as she reached out, offering her hand. It waited there, outlined against the ruins of the Acropolis behind. Grateful, Trevor took her hand into his own, real, pure under his touch. An emotional connection sealed between them in that small simple act, like it had for everyone throughout all time. Their fingers wrapped together, complete again. A soft breeze came faintly through the ruins, washing approvingly over them as Claire led Trevor carefully back. he exhaled happily, not knowing what to expect. In that moment, the world was filled with possibilities.

Up ahead at the curb, Trevor saw where Claire had parked her rented car, and he stopped when he saw who was there. 

Jaclyn and Champ had come with her to Greece, and they were kissing, not having seen them yet. But what amazed him was that they were clearly a couple again, and Trevor's heart soared happily as the two of them still kissed, gently in each other's arms. 

Claire moved behind him when he stopped, whispering happily into his ear, both of them looking forward at the gentle scene. 

"Behold your accomplishments, Trevor. You are Cupid. There. Right before us. Is the proof." 

When the kiss between Jaclyn and Champ finally ended, they pulled apart, and suddenly Trevor realized the two of them were not alone. Champ was carrying a small child in his arms, a tiny girl, the two adults shifting their attention to her, playing with her as she reached out to both of them. Trevor and Claire began to walk closer, Trevor still feeling pleasantly stunned.

"Trevor!"

Jaclyn finally saw him and her face lit up, running over and kissing him happily all over the face, nearly jumping on the spot from excitement. With a smile on his face, Champ walked over too, still carrying the little girl against his much larger form and looking at Trevor gratefully. 

"Hello again, Cupid." Champ teased. "What took you so long? Some part of me just knew I couldn't get rid of a roommate as annoying as you so easily. Oh, and by the way.. You still owe me about five years of back rent." 

Trevor laughed. "The check's in the mail, man" 

Champ nodded. "Always is."

Trevor reached out and hugged Champ happily, slapping him on the back with one arm. "Good to see you, Champoo."

"Likewise, Trevor." 

Smiling, Trevor looked at the little girl he was carrying. "Thank god she looks nothing like you, huh?" 

Champ smirked but said nothing, handing the child to Claire before turning back to Trevor with both arms free and open. "Now give me a real hug, God of Love."

With a laugh, Trevor obliged. Beside them, Claire lifted the little girl playfully into the air, making her giggle wildly. Champ squeezed Trevor hard in a deep bear hug. 

Trevor's voice sounded strained. "Too much crushing... too much crushing!!"

When the manly bear hug finally stopped manly-ly, Claire turned towards him with the little girl in her arms. 

"Trevor, there's someone else you should meet. this... is your daughter. Bliss." 

Trevor froze, stunned. 

And his world changed forever.

Moving forward, he looked slowly into his daughter's eyes, his own eyes beginning to glitter. Bliss looked at him, curiously, and then she smiled. She looked angelic, serene, wisdom beyond her years behind her kind brown eyes. Slowly her hand reached out and grabbed his larger fingers softly, pulling him out of his stunned silence. Trevor's face twisted joyfully even more, happy beyond belief as his heart filled beyond all the spaces in all the worlds of the entire universe. As he stood there with Claire beside him and his daughter holding his hand, Trevor finally felt something deeper and stronger than he had ever felt before.

Slowly, he leaned down, and kissed his daughter on the forehead. Closing his eyes, he whispered to himself... as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

"Now I know what love is..."

Straightening up, he took Bliss into his arms, holding her and filled with joy. the child touched his face with recognition, still smiling. Claire watched the two of them together, seeing something she never dreamed she would get to see, Bliss with her father. And suddenly, as Trevor laughed with Jaclyn and Champ while they teased him and compared her facial features with his, Claire started to worry, thinking ahead, going over their situation in her thoughts. Her face became concerned. 

"What do we do now, Trevor?" 

Looking happily over at her, he tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, Claire... We can stay in Athens for as long as we like. All of us..." he included Champ and Jaclyn in his gaze. "And maybe later, we can make our way back to Chicago."

Claire thought about what she had left behind. "Well... lots of things are different back home, Trevor. We can stay here for awhile, but beyond that... I really don't know where we go from here. I don't know what happens next." 

"An oracle once told me, not knowing is the one true joy of life. It'll be okay, Claire. Everything will be fine." 

Trevor was playing with Bliss again, tossing her lightly in the air which she enjoyed immensely, making her laugh. Touching Trevor's shoulder, Claire didn't seem convinced. 

"Trevor, what if someone discovers that you're still here? That you're alive? You could still be facing charges back home. I cleared up the mistake about the kidnapping. And they sorta believed Claire's shooting was self defense, but... I mean, they listened, they seemed to understand, but they never dropped the charge. Not to mention the charges of resisting arrest, Grand theft auto... should I go on?" 

"Technically you stole that second car Claire, not me." 

"Ok, granted. But my point is, you should be keeping a low profile, Trevor. Not winning several Olympic gold medals on national TV. Or setting records." 

He smiled proudly. "That was cool, wasn't it?" 

"Trevor, you could be extradited." 

"I won't." 

"You might." 

"They can't." 

"Why not?" she asked. 

"Because I'm safe here, Claire. I'm safe no matter where I go." Shifting Bliss to one arm, Trevor pulled Claire closer, leaned her very far back and kissed her deeply, the little girl laughing, spreading her arms as she hovered in her precarious position in mid air. 

Pulling Claire back up, Trevor nodded when she seemed to wobble and swoon slightly this time as she caught her breath. "You liked that huh?" 

He turned to his daughter and saw her reaching her arms forward, wanting to hover again, giggling. "Oh, you liked that too, didn't you." 

Trevor lifted his daughter Bliss into the air, then lifting her higher still. She seemed to enjoy being free, elevated into the sky. Still laughing happily, the little girl looked up, outlined against beautiful clouds and a sunny field of blue, bathed by the warm Grecian sun.   
The man and the piano began to sing again, the same lullabye as before in the graveyard. 

_ Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream,  
and dream how wonderful your life will be_

Out of sight below, Claire spoke again.

"Trevor, how can you be so sure?"

His voice answered. "I have friends in high places."

_ Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullabye  
then in your heart, there will always be a part of me_

Still held high in Trevor's hands, the little girl laughed at being so far above, wanting to go higher. Her small arms reached out, tiny fingers reaching for the clouds before Trevor lowered her out of view, leaving behind a beautiful, serene sky. 

_ Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabyes go on and on  
They never die that's how you and I will be... _

The world seemed whole again, and everything faded to black.

Author's note: I had planned for this to be the end, but I may continue this story and write more. Probably it will be titled Shadow Dance. Guess the faucet hasn't dripped dry yet. :) 


End file.
